Slytherins
by RaMeryt
Summary: Harry's 6th year. A Professor that had sworn he would never come back, returns. After all, never is a very long time for someone like him. And he isn't the DADA professor. He is a friend of Snape's. HPHL crossover. Methos/Cassandra/HP characters
1. November 1979, London

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter or Highlander Universe. If I did I would be famous. I am not._

_This is a crossover. Has nothing to do with my other story even though some concepts might appear in both. Enjoy. _

**November 1979**

**London**

He loved England. He really did. Days like today seemed to calm him. Dark, grey and raining. This thin rain that you couldn't escape, no matter what, that England was so famous of. He really did like it. No, the wet morning wasn't the reason he was frowning. Michael Daniels had other problems than the passing cars drenching him. He had to take a decision.

Michael Daniels was living in London for about thirty years now. He had a relationship with a girl that was too obvious she wanted to move on. He was one of the best astronomers in his field and member of the Institute of Physics. He had a respectable number of papers published under his name, and his students loved him.

Michael Daniels appeared to be in his early forties.

Michael Daniels could age no more. He had even grown a beard to hide his young face frozen in his early or mid twenties. At least that was how old he thought he was when he died for the first time. Michael Daniels was an immortal. And his time in this country was about to end. At least for this century. He stopped suddenly when he felt something strange. He raised his head and swore profoundly in every possible language that he knew.

Michael Daniels was also extremely stupid.

Oh his colleagues might have thought that his self absorbed and introspective character was the price for his brilliance, but he knew better. No one, however brilliant, was stupid enough to wander in an area where the back streets were so abandoned, with no other human life around – even if it was in the middle of London – especially if that man was an immortal. And one of the most hunted ones.

His hand was already reaching for the hilt of his sword, hidden inside his long grey coat – thank the gods for the English weather – when his mind registered that what he was feeling wasn't some one else's quickening. He paused and looked around him, his brows clouded in thought. He knew this feeling. This raising of his hair low in the neck, the feeling of the air around him subtly changing, as if something was about to happen. He just couldn't grasp where he had felt it before. It must have been a very long time ago.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a man dressed all in black – robes? – literally appeared in front of him. For a moment they just stood there, Daniels' face betraying his astonishment, the other man's a mask of pain and fear. Then the unknown man groaned and fell to his knees, despite the tight hold on Daniels' coat.

"Help me." It was but a whisper, but Daniels heard it. The other man had a knife pocking out of his ribs in his back. Daniels knew that his hands were painted red, as well as he knew that the man was dying and there was nothing he could do about it. Just be there when he would wake up again, in his new life.

Daniels sighed. He had felt the young man's quickening as soon as he had appeared in the alley. And with it he had remembered what the feeling he had earlier was. The young immortal was also a wizard and Daniels wanted nothing more than to leave the man and get the hell out of there. This man was trouble, he just knew it. And it wasn't just because of the knife in his back. There were incredibly few immortals born as wizards, or the other way around.

He felt the signature in the air change once more, and he knew that both the man was dead and that there was company coming. And he could easily guess it would be people this boy knew.

"Oh well, I did want to change my life, anyway." He said to no one in a strangely surrendered voice. "I really do hope you are worth it." He took hold of the wizard and apparated them away, just as the company arrived.

oO0Oo

It felt like his lungs were on fire. For a few seconds all he could do was cough, trying to get one more breath to appease his starved lungs. His heart felt like lead in his chest. He hadn't felt so bad even when facing the after effects of the Crucio curse.

What the hell had happened?

He felt like he had died.

The severe looking young man stayed unmoving in the bed, for a moment, his eyes closed. It was not the time to panic. First he had to…in the bed!…shit! His eyes snapped opened and he practically jumped out of the bed. Unfortunately he hadn't thought that this might be a bad idea. He landed on the floor, his body weak as a kitten, feeling as if he didn't have a bone inside him.

And that irritating headache. If only it would go away.

"It will fade in a while." An amused voice reached him and he raised his eyes from the floor to meet a tall, lanky man.

"How did you know?" his question seemed stupid when the man nodded at his palm holding his head as tight as if his life depended on it. "Who are you?" he asked, lowering his hand. The headache had indeed receded. He looked around him. This was a spacey bedroom, with big windows overlooking to a lake. Thin curtains blurred the view but you could still see the mountains across the lake. "Scratch that, where the hell am I?" he said in a mere whisper, fear obvious in his voice. It was at that instant that he realised he didn't have his wand, or indeed anything of the things hidden in his robes. Hell, he didn't even have his robes on. His eyes widened as he looked down at himself. He was naked but for a pair of boxers that most certainly were not his own.

"Sorry about the clothes." The strange man told him, his lips turning upwards a bit – as if in a controlled smile. "They were rather ruined by the blood."

Blood?

"As to where we are, in my place, somewhere in Wales. No need to know where, exactly." He said happily, in a manner that bore too much in common with a certain Headmaster he knew. "I will tell you who I am, providing of course you tell me who you are."

"How did I come here? What blood?" the young man raised himself back into the bed, the sheets becoming a sort of protection from the knowing and penetrating eyes of the man before him.

"Don't you remember?"

The young wizard tried to block the memories for a moment, just so that he could study the other man better. He was probably as tall as he was and lean, if not thin. His eyes had the most peculiar colour he had seen. Green in one moment they looked gold the next instance as if the colour had not yet been decided when he was born. A roman nose, smaller than his own, but then again that didn't say a lot. He _did_ have a big nose after all.

The man seemed to be in his early forties, his dark brown hair falling past his shoulders not quite curly, while his beard couldn't hide the amused smirk that he was sending towards him. The man knew exactly what he was doing. A memory flashed in front of him, of this same man in an alley, grasping him when his knees went dead. He had a knife in his back then, hadn't he?

"What did you do to me?" he asked a bit confused, as his hands flied to where the knife or wound should be. There was nothing. "How did you heal me so fast?" he knew that he had a severe injury, that could have proven fatal. And yet here he was. In the company of a man that had apparently saved him, but of whom he knew nothing, with a wound that was healed, no scar added to the others.

"I didn't do anything." His saviour said. "You did the whole hard job of healing yourself from a death wound. I only brought you here, away from those that hunted you. And now you owe me some explanations."

"I…I don't know what you are talking about."

"Yeah, right, and this is the best line ever, I assume?" the sarcasm was dripping from his voice. "Ok. Let's do this the other way around. I tell you what I know of you, and you fill the gaps, agreed?"

"I don't even know you! You've never seen me in your life before." The young wizard said utterly perplexed. "What makes you think you can presume what…who I am?"

"You are a wizard." The man said calmly. "Oh, yes, I know about wizards. I am no muggle, my self, but then again I am no wizard either. And neither are you, if I was to be exact, but you think you are."

"Huh…I don't think I am a wizard. I know I am one."

"Yes, yes of course. But you won't be for long."

"Now you lost me."

"Just here me out, ok? Good. You are more than a wizard. You are also a Death Eater." At that the young wizard gasped and shrunk back at the bed.

"How…how…"

"You mean besides the regalia and the mark on your arm?" the man smiled satisfied as the boy's hand shot to cover the offending arm. "You pretty much gave yourself away now, you know." He walked closer to the bed and scrutinised him. "But that is not all is it? The men after you, they were Death Eaters, right?"

"I…I don't know." He said curled into a ball.

"What is your name, boy?"

"Snape, Severus." The young wizard didn't notice the look of surprise that passed on the other man's face, as he had lowered his eyes. He knew that he was lost. He was cornered. This man knew about him. Knew that he was a Death Eater and who ever he was, he was not going to let him go just like that. Snape could see no way out of it.

"Figures." He whispered. "How old are you?"

"25. Who are you?"

"Just a boy." The man sighed causing Snape to look at him strangely. He seemed tired somehow. Older that he appeared to be. His eyes were darkened as in a far away thought. "Always the young ones, right?" he asked looking – upwards? Snape had a mind to believe that this man was crazy.

"Who are you, and what in Merlin's balls is going on here?" he asked again raising his voice a bit. The man seemed to brighten up again in the mention of Merlin, as in some private joke.

"You may call me…hmm…someone the watchers don't or won't know. Dr. Adams, won't work, and neither will Pierson. Oh, well. Daniels will stay around a bit longer." The man finished his inner dialogue and turned sparkling eyes to Snape's black ones. "You may call me Michael. Daniels."

"Let me hazard a guess. This isn't your real name?" Daniels burst out laughing.

"What gave you that idea?" he replied when he had himself under control. "No, no it is not. But it will do. Now to come back to you, boy. You are a Death Eater, hunted down by Death Eaters. Aurors wouldn't stab someone. They do prefer to keep their hands clean, after all. But Lord Voldemort can't possibly have ordered this. He wouldn't want to loose you, from his fold. You are a Snape. Power, wealth, dark arts are all synonym with your name. That makes you a mystery. Where are your parents?"

"Dead. How do you now all these about me?" Snape demanded to know, trying to hide, not very successfully, how apprehensive he truly was.

"I am a student of human nature. And History." He shrugged the question away. "You are trying to get out, aren't you?" Daniels speculated.

"I am out." Snape almost snapped. Then his eyes grew larger. What the hell? For six years he kept secret after secret. For two years now no one but Dumbledore knew that he was a spy against the Dark Lord, and now, in the space of a few minutes, he actually betrayed himself to someone he didn't know at all. What was wrong with him?

"Ah! A spy! How, very, very interesting." Daniels said, his hands clasping briefly in excitement, his English accent intensifying in purpose. "Against the Dark Lord. How very brave of you." Snape could not help but snort. "Ah. You are not a Gryffindor then."

"Now way in hell." was the curt reply.

"A man after my own heart. A Slytherin. We are going to get along just fine." Daniels smiled widely, while Snape decided that the man had indeed lost his mind.

"What are you talking about? I am out of here, now. I don't know how you healed me and thank you very much, I am in your debt, but I have to go."

"You are not going anywhere." The sudden change in the voice startled him. Before him, no more was the amused, unassuming man of a minute ago, but someone else who smelled of danger and death. "We are not finished. Like it or not, you died in front of me. Like it or not you are now of my people. An immortal. And though _I_ don't like it at all, I am going to be your teacher, for as long as I deem necessary. Understood?"

There really was one reply Snape could give. Only one that was expected.

"Yes."

"Good." The easy going man was back again. "Rest now. We'll talk in the morning. By the way, I have your wand and knives. Impressive, really. Oh, I wouldn't bother trying to escape. The room is warded, and trust me not even your Lord could break them."

And with that he left him alone, the sun slowly fading behind the horizon.

_So? You liked it? No? I would like to know. There is more to come._


	2. August 1997, Hogarts

_**Disclaimer: **I have a piece of parchment in front of me on which it is written that Harry Potter and Highlander Universes belong to me. All I have to do to finalise the agreement is to magically sign it. Unfortunately I am no Witch._

_This is not a new update. Just correcting something on the text. Thanks MarbleGlove for pointing out to me. I go through every chapter a lot of times, but English is not my native language and some things I simply miss. Especially since I know what I want to write and read it thus, instead of what I have written. Thanks to all those that find mistakes and let me know._

_Second chapter is out. But first let me thank all of you that reviewed. I was worried that this try might be frowned upon. Seems I was wrong. So again thank you._

_A note on dates. Harry Potter is in his 6th year at 1997-98. That is the 5th season in Highlander and those who are aware with it they know that this is the Horsemen season. So Methos is supposed to be in America and France this whole year. But he does disappear for a year afterwards. So pretend that this the year he is gone. After Archangel and before Indiscretions. _

_I know this is a short chapter but, well, the next one is quite big. _

**August 1997**

**A week before term starts.**

**Hogwarts**

All of the teachers were gathered in the Staff Room. This was one of their last meetings before the term started and they still had a lot of work to do. The timetable was ready, thanks to McGonagall's continuous hunting of those that hadn't given up their hour slots, so this was one think they didn't have to worry themselves about.

What they did have to worry about, though, was that they were missing a Professor. And strangely enough it wasn't for the Defence Against the Dark Arts position. Remus Lupin had accepted to return to the position with the blessings of the Ministry that, after the fiasco with 'Professor' Dolores Umbridge and the beyond doubt appearance of Lord Voldemort, tried to do whatever Dumbledore proposed.

"Albus, did you have any luck?" Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall asked when the older wizard opened the topic of the replace of Professor Fennel.

"No. And I don't know what I am going to do. Ethics of Magic is a very important class and the applicants I've been having so far are ridiculous." Dumbledore said, worried eyes looking around at his Professors. Maybe one had an idea.

"Relax, Albus." Fillius Flitwick said, his voice a bit shrill, as was his usual. "We still have a week. Something will come up."

"Severus?" McGonagall tapped the younger Professor on his shoulder, gently. It was never good to startle the dark man. Yet all the while she had been watching him, he seemed to be miles away. Not uncommon of him either, the past few months. In fact, since Professor Fennel left, the young man seemed to be bothered by something. "Are you paying attention to anything we are saying?"

"hmm? What? Sorry Minerva. Can you repeat that?" Snape snapped his head around, his eyes leaving the windows for now. He had an idea. For a little while now, in fact. An idea that could help them defeat the Dark Lord, once and for all. Maybe. With or without the help of the Order and the Wonder Boy. This was something that he would have to work without anyone knowing what he – they – where doing. But it was worth a shot. Even if it meant keeping even more secrets. He was used to that after all these years of practice.

"Why do I bother?" McGonagall sighed irritated. "Severus, you have been looking out of that window the past half an hour. I understand you'd rather be somewhere else – preferably alone in your dungeon – but at least try to remember that you are a teacher in these halls, and as such there are some things you ought to do."

"Speaking from personal experience, my Dear?" Professor Vector smirked towards the Deputy Headmistress.

"Amanda! Watch your tongue." McGonagall snapped back.

"Minerva, Amanda, please!" Dumbledore decided it was about time he interfered. Every one knew that Vector was very fond of the Potion's Master –she did nothing to hide it – but no one knew if those feelings were returned. After all Severus Snape was a lone person. "I don't want you fighting over something so stupid. And you Severus, do try to pay some attention in the meeting."

"Or at least pretend to." Lupin muttered from next to McGonagall. Snape just scowled at him.

"Actually I was thinking." He send ominous glanced to anyone of the Professors that might want to say something on that, less than flattering for himself. "I might know someone that would be perfect for the job."

"The Ethics of Magic position?" Sprout asked him, a bit baffled. All of them knew that in what mattered Severus Snape was a good man, or could be one, but his behaviour and inclines tended to obscure that truth even from people that knew him. Or thought they knew him.

"You, Severus?" McGonagall asked, equally surprised, but for different matters.

In all her years working along with him, she never knew the younger wizard to offer any help in matters of the school, unless of course it was to humiliate the candidates. She had to admit, though, that he was an excellent judge of character, that had saved them lots of times from unfortunate Professor choices. It seemed that he always was right in the end, even if no one ever chose to hear him out, and take his advice.

"Yes, Minerva, Flora. I understand how shocking it must sound to you, but I actually do know people outside Hogwarts that know what Ethics are. Whether they choose to stand by them, or not, is a totally different matter."

"Yes, well, Severus." Dumbledore coughed slightly to stop Snape into getting in one of his notoriously sarcastic come backs. "You said you know of someone that might be good for the position?"

"No. I said I know someone that is perfect for it. He has spent his whole life in the Muggle world, living like one of them, all the while watching and recording both theirs and our histories. He is…"

"a Muggle?" Flitwick asked surprised.

"No. He is of a very old Wizarding family." Snape rolled his eyes at him. "And one of the best I know of in the Dark Arts and Arithmancy." Not to mention illusions and manipulation, he thought wryly.

"You mean of course the Defence _Against_ the Dark Arts, right Dear?" Sprout corrected him, a worried look settling on her face.

"I meant what I said." Snape insisted. "Anyway. Headmaster, I think you should consider him. I can contact him, though it might take some time – he is always travelling – and have him send you some of his credentials."

"That would be helpful, Severus." Dumbledore nodded, his curiosity picked up. Snape had never mentioned of any friends living like a muggle. In fact, he had assumed that the younger wizard knew no one in the Muggle world, seeing as he had never, not once comment on it, during one of their walks in that so different world. "And what would be the name of your friend?"

"Oh, I am going to let him inform you of that." Snape said, a nasty smile playing on his lips. "After all we wouldn't want any rumours around the school that you hired someone because _I_ vouched for him. Better if you just fairly choose him as being by far the best among you applicants." The fact of course that he had no idea under what name the man would want to appear, didn't help any.

"As you wish, Severus." Dumbledore narrowed his eyes. He would have to be very careful the next few days. And pay attention to what his Potions Master was after. "Now, I would like us to discuss once more the security implementations that…" a loud groan emitted by all the Professors signalled the change of the topic.

Snape turned back into staring out of his window, a small smile on his lips. It was a good plan, he thought. At least he had finally managed to track his Teacher down. Adam Pierson, indeed. Thank the Goddess he had remembered about that name, or he would have never found him. So absorbed he was in his thoughts, that he didn't see the curious glances the other youngest member of the faculty was throwing at him.

For Remus Lupin, this was going to be an interesting year. Since his last time as a Professor in Hogwarts he had finally understood what that feeling he got from his once School mate, signified. And if he was right – and he knew he was – these were very interested times to live in.

But this wasn't his secret to reveal.

This wasn't a secret he could reveal.

Some things were simply not tolerated.

_Hope you liked it. Next chapter, a new Professor makes his appearance. _

_I could ask you all to review this, but I won't. Somehow I know that you will do anyway._


	3. September 1st 1997, Hogwart's Express

_**Disclaimer: **I do not own either the Highlander or the Harry Potter Universes. I'd like to though._

_Don't know what to say exactly. A big thank you to those that reviewed I believe is in order, so thank you. _

_Also, I might not be updating any time soon. A cute little stray kitten found its way into my heart; actually I was taking my dog for a walk when I heard, amidst a lot of barking a loud meowing. Turning around, guess what I saw? Exactly! This poor little thing, barely two weeks old, maybe even less, alone, in the middle of the street. _

_You should have seen it. And me. One hand clasping the dog's chain, on the other holding this tiny hairball. It actually was small enough to fit in my palm! Named him Isidoros, then figured out he is a she, so he became Isidora. And she takes a lot of time to please. I have to feed her milk – she can't alone yet – give her medicine – I really thought she was blind the first time I saw her. It took two baths to make her look clean._

_Anyway. Add that to me trying to learn how to drive – I haven't hit anything or anyone yet – and I hope you can understand why my updating might be slow and forgive me. _

_Sorry for the blabbering. Do enjoy the story. _

**September 1st 1997, Monday**

**Platform 93/4 Kings Cross**

He felt a bit uneasy around all these people. And it wasn't because he hadn't placed himself in the Wizarding world for a thousand years, neither was it that for the first time in as many years he was wearing again his set of rich blue-black robes. He felt as comfortable in them as he would dressed with his normal jeans and large sweater. And he could hide his sword far better in his voluminous black cloak than in any of the muggle coats.

No. He was feeling uneasy because for the first time in centuries he had allowed himself to be noticed.

Gone was the slouching – at least when he wasn't sitting down – and the bending of the head and shoulders to seem slender. Gone was the simple clothes and stance that made him look just like everyone else.

He was not every one else. He was Derian Deofol. A wizard of a very old and pure family. Wealthy as well. He smirked at the wonder with which the people around him regarded him – whether they were the students or their parents it didn't matter. They just had no idea who he really was.

He would have preferred to be at Joe's, drinking beer slowly, baiting the Highlander. Unnoticed by all, even his friends.

What the hell had made him to agree to this?

His swearing might not be able to be heard around him, but he kept it going as he walked inside the train to the front compartments to take a seat. At least it was empty for now. He took off his cloak and gently placed it next to him, obscuring his sword, but keeping it easily accessible. Not that he was expecting anything on the way.

There were very few immortals that knew of Wizards, and those usually were immortals that had some meagre ability to do magic. Weak magic.

He wasn't one of them.

He could hear voices all around him, goodbyes and laughter, and had the urge to get out of there. Why did he have to be a Professor in that damn school? Again? Last time he had promised never to return, but then again never was a very long time for his species.

The train whistled and slowly the Platform was left behind them.

Too late to change his mind now.

In any case, he did want to see his former student again. Derian smiled as he watched the scenery change from out side his window.

He had been surprised when he found the Owl waiting for him in his apartment. Well, the Highlander had been even more surprised, but he had managed to cover it up. MacLeod might be young, but he was an immortal. All immortals could see magic if they just knew how to look at it. MacLeod seemed to be able to do it. Koltec's and that other guy's quickening – hadn't he been Cassandra's student? What was his name? Ah, yes Kantos – probably had instigated that ability.

Methos, however, wasn't about to tell him anything of that world. MacLeod would be lost in it. He had no ability for magic, it was obvious from his quickening. At least not the serious stuff. He probably would be as good as an almost squib. Ok, maybe a tad bit better, but no more.

Severus' letter had been to the point, as the man himself was, when faced with important things. Lord Voldemort was back. He had been looking for his teacher the past 2 years. He need his help, a position was open in Hogwarts. Was he interested into teaching a bunch of stupid, slow and uninterested students the Ethics of Magic?

He had been pleasantly surprised to see that there was a class under that name. Salazar had wanted to create one when he had been at the school the last time, but…no. The evil, dark, Professor could not be allowed to teach the students of the Ethics. After all, how could he? He didn't have any. He would only corrupt them more.

"At least I am alive still, my dear Godric. Ain't I?" Derian whispered a malevolent smile on his lips. "And I am being offered the position that you stopped me from having. Ethics?" he snorted. "You wouldn't know what that means if it hit you on your thick head! Evil, my ass. You obviously never met Derian or Death. Even Merlin would have given Slytherin a run for his money, were they to be compared in Evilness. You sorry fool."

"Err, sorry, am I disturbing you?" Derian snapped his head around, to see a young blonde boy, tall and thin, looking at him curiously, if a bit arrogantly.

"I was having a discussion, but seeing as my audience isn't that attentive – in fact I'd say it's rather dead – I don't believe you do." Derian replied, his eyes travelling up and down appraising the young student. He nodded with a smirk for him to come in and sit down, when he felt that the boy had become nervous enough. It didn't do to be arrogant in front of Professor Derian. "So, who might you be?"

"I am Draco Malfoy." The young man said proudly enough, even if with a bit of sorrow in his voice.

"A Malfoy." Derian narrowed his eyes in thought. "A Slytherin, right?" there was no badge in Draco's clothes, but a Malfoy would be nothing else.

"And Prefect." He said proudly.

"Good. There was some story about your family, right? In the end of June? Someone found in league with Lord Voldemort?" Draco twitched a bit at the name. "A fool."

"The Dark Lord or my dad?" Draco said a bit angrily. Red colour had spread out on his cheeks.

"Ah, he was your dad? I am sorry then." And he rather was. It was never good to lose your father in such an embarrassing way. Any of your relatives, really. Though, sometimes it did prove better in the end. He hoped this would be one of those times. "Your father."

"Because he was in league with Lord Voldemort?" Derian felt the urge to smile. The boy was fishing for information on what his beliefs were.

"Because he was caught. Follow any one you want, but never get caught." He added. "It's one of the great lessons in life."

"So, you wouldn't mind following the Dark Lord?" Draco said trying to make sense of his words.

"I am being followed, my dear boy. Never the other way around." Even if some never understood it. Like a certain Scott he knew. And a dead poet. And a dead nightmare named Kronos. He should stop going down that line of thought, or he would get broody. And he didn't do broody.

"Who are you?" Draco asked after a minute. "To follow no one, you have to be very powerful and rich." That last was said with doubt. Well, he wanted to appear important, but not blow up his cover. His powers were his own to know just how enormous they were.

"Maybe I am. Or was, in a previous life." He smirked at Draco. "For now, I am your new Ethics of Magic Professor. And if you are lucky enough to be a sixth or a seventh year, then you'll found your self in one of my classes." He paused thinking a bit. "Not that I will be having lots of them. In fact only two, thank the Gods. One for each year. And just two hours per week, each!" he smiled a truly happy smile. "Now, if only they are not in the morning, it will be awesome." He didn't particularly enjoy waking up unholy hours. In fact he hated it.

"You are weird." Draco said and immediately blushed.

What had made him say that to a Professor. Mind you, the man looked awfully young to be offered such a position, somewhere around in his early twenties. But he was weird. His long robes were a clear indication that this man was rich - one just couldn't afford robes made of silk and velvet. The charms weaved in them were notoriously expensive and difficult to place. He bore his dark, not quite straight but not wavy either, hair long. He couldn't be certain but it probably fell bellow his lower back. He had them clasped with a silver ring low on his shoulders, allowing some strands to fall around his pale face, uneven.

He looked like a wizard taken out of a book! That was how Slytherin or Merlin would look like. Not to mention the eyes! Not even the Headmaster, that fool, had eyes as playful as this man's. Hell, they had changed colour five times in as much minutes they had been talking!

All in all, very interesting, indeed. He would have to keep an eye at him. And he still didn't know his name. And he said so.

"Sorry, I got distracted." The man answered. "something about someone being weird." Draco blushed again, Derian noticed satisfied. At lest the boy had forgotten all about his father at the moment. 'Give them a mystery and they forget their mind!' he thought amused. In this case he would be the mystery. "My name is Derian Deofol. But you can call me Professor Derian, as I suppose all of you will. No doubt just Derian would be a bit strange, though preferable." He mused.

"Derian Deofol?" Draco frowned in thought. "Wasn't there a Dark Lord in Wales named as such?"

"Very good!" Derian was impressed. This young man knew his history. Then again it might be that Derian was a Dark Lord, and Draco was a Malfoy. And all Malfoys had an interest in Dark Arts. "He was indeed." His Wales' accent intensifying a bit. Let the boy think whatever he wanted.

"I see." Draco's eyebrows couldn't have climbed any higher on his forehead.

The silence that spread since that discovery, was interrupted when the door opened wide and three students peered inside.

"Oi, Malfoy, how come your goons are not next to you?" a redhead asked.

Derian didn't need any more indication to realise that this was a Weasley. Something about the red hair gave the secret away. The tall boy was flanked by a girl with bushy hair that didn't know whom to look most disapprovingly at. The Red hair or the Blonde one. On the other side a short boy with black hair and green eyes looked down at Malfoy with something akin to hatred. Had he bet that the trio were Gryffindors and in the same year as the Malfoy lad, as well as 'enemies', he would have won a million. He smiled and then did a double take on the sorter boy. He had Lily's eyes. He could have never forgotten Lily's eyes.

"Do you have any relationship with Lily Evans?" he asked, startling them. They hadn't noticed him. Probably because they had their minds only in Malfoy.

"Me?"

"Who are you?" both boys asked at the same time.

"Weasley, I didn't ask you." Derian scolded him, again surprising them all that he knew him, while they had never seen him before. Also it might have been the fact that someone actually knew Weasley instead of Harry Potter.

"I am her son. Harry Potter. How do you know Ron? You knew my mother?" the short boy asked, a feeling of want spreading in the air. He doubted anyone else noticed it thought. Picking up feelings were not something such young boys would be interested at. Unless, of course, your name was Severus Snape.

"I haven't met a Weasley that isn't a red hair." Derian replied with a snort. "And since this is a train to a Wizarding school, it was a reasonable guess, I believe. As for your mother. Yes, I knew her. Briefly. Potter, you said your father was?"

"Yes, James Potter." Harry was surprised and very keen in learning something more about his parents. Since last year he had lost one more of his sources on them.

"That fool." Derian noticed that while Malfoy seemed very amused in the way this talk was going, the two boys, especially Potter, were getting very angry. Probably that was the reason Malfoy was smiling. At least the girl was looking at him in wonder and curiosity, rather than animosity. "He was a brave man, I have to give him that, but he rushed into situations without thinking. That caused a myriad of problems. And very protective of you mom. I wonder what she saw in him." He said frowning a bit. "She was a marvel, your mother. But if you want to learn more about her, I suggest you speak to her best friend, not me."

"Who would that be?" Harry replied. Not really knowing what to feel about that man.

"You don't know?" Derian said perplexed. This was interesting. "You attend Hogwarts for six years and no one told you who Lily's best friend was, until of course the day she married your father. Then he became your mother's hidden best friend. That's when I met them."

"No. I don't." Harry replied, feeling a bit annoyed. Just how much hadn't he been told of?

"Oh." Derian did some hard thinking. Truth was that although he had been in contact with this world, he didn't know all the details. Maybe this was something that the boy wasn't supposed to know. Severus had said that there were a lot of secrets around. And that his job was to mud the waters as much as possible, on all sides. Then he probably shouldn't tell them. "Lily was hanging around a certain Slytherin since their school days." He noticed all four jaws open widely. "But I think it's not my place to tell you his name. If he wanted you to know, he would have told you." Derian smiled inwardly at the stunned students. "From the little time I spent with her, I can't, by the life of me, understand why she was sorted into Gryffindor. I am telling you, Godric Gryffindor really messed up when he made that dratted thing. She should have been in Slytherin."

"But she was a Gryffindor!" "She was a muggle!" "Slytherins hate muggles!" "She married my dad!" four voices sounded together in a mix of words and levels of stunning.

"Ahm…will you be wanting anything from the cart?" An old Witch was standing behind the trio, looking at them with slight wonder and strictness. "If not, please do move, for I have to pass."

"Sorry, miss." Derian said with his most apologetic grin. "My fault I suppose. Yes. Just a moment please." He turned to the trio with a questioning glance. "Will you be staying with us? I still don't know who all of you are, by the way."

"Maybe we should…"

"We would love to." The bushy haired girl pocked Weasley on the ribs and told him with a smile. This was one curious girl. Already he could see that there was more to her than met the eye. And she was in Gryffindor? That hat was a lost case. Maybe he should have a talk with it.

"Good, good. Then do sit down, please." He invited them in, all the while noticing how the three boys were throwing daggers to each other. "My dear lady, could you give us from what ever you have in a quantity to satisfy five very hungry mouths?" he said very formally, gaining an amused grin from the girl and Draco, as well as a blush from the cart lady.

"Yes, yes of course." The lady said, getting his order. "You wouldn't be the new Professor, would you?"

"I am indeed. Professor Derian Deofol, at your service." He inclined his head, to hide a smirk. He did love to mock the others, without them noticing. Of course his audience always did, as it should.

"Oh, about time they got someone with good manners in there!" the lady told him and handed him his order. 'Manners?' Derian smirked. 'That was a first'. Good manners and he didn't seem to be said in the same sentence the past few years. Of course he still owed Joe his tab money, come to think of it.

"My treat." He said to the students that had already taken out their money. "After all a new teacher must always bribe his students. Who knows, maybe I won't be finding any strange things in my classroom."

"This is Hogwarts you are talking about." The Cart lady winked at him as she left them.

"It is indeed." He replied and for a moment he looked to be in another world altogether.

"Er…Professor Deofol?" the girl shook him out of his memories.

"Derian. Or Professor Derian." He told her with a smile. "Never Deofol. And you would be?"

"Sorry sir. I am Hermione Granger. Me and Ron" she pointed at the Weasley "we are the Gryffindor Prefects. And Harry Potter's best friend."

"You say that as if it is something to be cherished." Draco sneered. He hadn't missed the way they were seated. He and the new Professor by the windows, Ron next to the Professor and Harry next to him, as far as way from the Slytherin as possible. Hermione was seated next to him, but not too close. There always had to be safety distance.

"It is." She scolded him.

"I disagree." Draco said in a whisper that only Methos heard. "He will get you killed in the end."

"What will you be teaching, Professor?" Hermione asked with interest. "Are you filling in for the DADA position?"

"The what?" Derian picked up a chocolate frog. It seemed that the children wouldn't start eating if he didn't. Stealing a glance at Ron he thought maybe he should have bought more.

"The Defence Against the Dark Arts position." Harry explained.

"No. I am your new EoM Professor."

"The wha'?" Ron asked, his mouth rather full from chocolate.

"He means the Ethics of Magic class, you fool." Draco said, a look of disgust planted on his face. And it wasn't about his class.

"Ethics of Magic?" Harry repeated. "Wasn't this the class with no book assigned to?"

"Yes." Hermione said knowingly. "I thought it might be some typo, I mean there can't be a class with no book, but in Flourish & Blotts they also said they had no assigned book ordered either. I did look around for a book on the subject, but there are simply too obscure to know what to buy. And there was mo mention of what the curriculum will be, so if you were to tell us what book to get, we should be able to order it, or…"

"Miss Granger, stop." Derian said amused at her. Her two friends were shaking her heads, clearly trying not to laugh, and Draco…well Draco seemed lost of words. There was a look of wonder and sympathy in his eyes. "There was no book because I was only hired three days ago."

"Three days?" Draco turned towards him. "Dad once told me that you have to meet with the board of School Governors, and the Headmaster about a month before the term starts. Then they have to test your abilities and knowledge. You can't have been hired three days ago."

"Clearly dear Daddy wasn't around much this summer, was he?" Harry said lowly, but not enough as not to be overheard.

Draco's face lost its entire colour and Derian could see that it was because of great effort that the boy did nothing more than send a deathly stare at the Potter boy. He could see his hand, clasping and unclasping next to his waist, as if he wanted nothing more than to grab his wand and hex Potter in the seventh layer of hell. Next to him Hermione came to her senses after the shock of hearing Harry saying something like this in the presence of a Professor, none the less, and prepared to take out her wand in case something happened. She shot a glance at him, pleading that he should do something.

"Not his fault, I am sure, Mr. Potter." He said with a voice harder than he had used the whole evening. Except perhaps when he spoke of that bloody of a nuisance Godric.

The trio looked at him strangely. His tone indicated he knew exactly what had happened, but whom he was voting for wasn't as clear. Draco on the other hand realised just how Slytherin this man was. 'Lie to every one, except you self'. That was among the rules of their House. After all, Derian had told him just earlier in this trip, that it was his father's fault that he had got caught. But the others didn't have to know it. He felt a smile climbing on his lips. He liked this new Professor.

"You are right, Draco. I think they couldn't find any one else and it took Professor Snape the whole summer to find me. In fact I am surprised he did find me." Another bit of info to feed their starved for news minds. "I haven't met one person from the school, yet."

"You know Professor Snape?"

"Yes, yes I do. And now do eat, or you'll never finish the food until we reach the School." They really didn't need any more intensive than that. Derian sat back relaxed, looking out of the window, hearing the trio talking about other things, like Quidditch – that was something that hadn't been around when he was – and classes. Draco had taken out a book and was pretending to read, but his eyes always travelled to the three friends and to him, whenever the boy thought he wasn't looking.

It wouldn't be long before they reached the school, now.

oO0Oo

_I hope you liked it and might want to take some time reviewing. _


	4. Hogwart's, School Of Witchcraft and Wiza

_**Disclaimer:** Do you know me? Me? Am I famous? Rich? No? Then what could possibly make you think there may be a slight chance I might own these two lovely universes? _

_Third chapter! The new Professor is introduced in Hogwarts. _

**oO0Oo**

**Hogwarts**

**School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry**

Methos stood watching the Thestrals as if in trance. As soon as he had climbed down the train he had felt them. There, harnessed on the carriages, the magnificent black winged horses were looking straight at him, with a look that said everything. One, the female in charge of the herd, bent her head a bit, her eyes never leaving his own. He couldn't help but smile. These were his creatures. The first one, being a young black horse that was dying. It involved a lot of what now – and then – would be considered dark magic, but he had saved it. And had made it invisible to all but himself. Death.

Of course the animal had mated and she bore children that carried in their blood his spells if a bit weakened. She knew that the first animal, Epona, was still alive, for in her veins run part of his quickening. These all were her children. They could feel him, for they could feel her, and he could see them, but then again so did all those who knew of death. But Epona, the true leader of the herd, could not be seen by any other Wizard or Witch or indeed creature, than those she chose to reveal her self to, and him.

"They are Thestrals." A female voice informed him.

"Thestrals?" he said wondering where that name had come from. He stepped closer and begun caressing the neck of the female. She purred slightly and moves closer to him.

"Yes. Hogwarts has a whole herd. I am Luna Lovegood. I saw my mom dying. Whom did you loose?" the question took him by surprise. His eyes were shiny for a moment as images of loved ones flashed by. The image of Alexa on the beach in Santorini the strongest one, being the closest to now.

"Too many." He answered. "But I believe that wasn't the answer you wanted."

"No, not really. But it will do. You are a new Professor here? Not DADA? You would have known about Thestrals." She reasoned.

"I do know about them, but under a different name. Each De Bas. It means horse of death." He told her as he motioned her to climb before him in the carriage. Draco Malfoy got in a second later. The trio had probably got a carriage to them selves.

"So you can see them?" Draco asked Luna. "Whom have you lost?"

"My mother. Can't you?" she asked clearly perplexed. "I would have thought you of all people would be able." Draco smirked but didn't answer the question. "So," she turned towards the Professor. "If you are not teaching DADA what are you teaching?"

"EoM." Methos replied.

"Really? Professor Fennel retired then? Good. I hope you are better than he was." Luna said with a sceptical smile.

"I'll try my best."

"What do you care anyway? It's for sixth year and up." Draco asked her.

"Yeah, I know. But my dad said that Dumbledore was thinking to reform the class. Something about a three hour slot each week for students of all houses from 5th year and up."

"What?" Derian shouted surprising them. "They didn't tell me that!" he protested. "I didn't…one more class? And three hours?" he said indignantly. "What were they thinking. It's ethics, not maths! What am I supposed to talk about for three fucking hours?"

"Fucking?" Draco's eyes widened. That was the first time he heard a Professor swearing in front of the students. And using a muggle expression, as well.

"Pretend you didn't hear that." Derian said dismissively. He had other things to worry about. "Now, if they programmed my class for the morning they better be ready to accept my resignation!" Luna giggled at him.

"You are weird." She informed him.

"So I've heard." Derian shot a pointed look at Draco who shrugged back.

"You also told him this?"

"In the exact same words."

"Well, you are." Draco justified himself. Derian rolled his eyes. This was going to be an interested year. At least he would have a break from a certain Highlander.

"Thank you so very much!"

"You two know each other?" Luna asked interested.

"Who us?" Draco moved his hand pointing first him and then Derian. "Never met him before." He said with a straight face.

"Yep. Just met in the train." Derian added smiling.

Inside his head he noticed that he was acting more like Adam Pierson, than Derian Deofol. Truth to be told, Derian had lived and died almost a thousand and seven hundred years ago. Adam Pierson seemed a better choice for the children. More open, they'd get to trust him. That was what he wanted, not? To have them trust him and tell him of their beliefs, fears. He'd keep the Derian persona with the other Professors. He couldn't help but smirk. He was Derian Deofol, mean Dark Lord of 300BC, acting like Adam Pierson, mild-manner Muggle of the twentieth century. One of these days he would get confused. Dangerous waters ahead.

"We are there." Luna said, smile still in place. "Finally. This summer was the worst. '_Don't go out; You-know-who could be watching', 'be careful, there might be Death Eaters around'" _she mimicked her elders. "At least I am not a small child to threaten me that _the big bad Voldie-wolf_ is going to kidnap me and eat me whole, if I don't finish my soup."

The students around the entrance of Hogwarts looked curiously at the two students and new Professor laughing aloud as they exited their carriage. On the top of the stairs a dark man was looking straight at Derian, who seemed to the world oblivious to it. As he climbed up the stairs Methos noticed amused that if the student wasn't a Slytherin he or she would move as far as way from the Potions Master. He glanced up and smiled at him.

"Severus, long time not seen." He said as he shook hands with the man. Neither of them was into embracing, however friendly it might be.

"Indeed. Might I ask what you were laughing at?" the man raised an eyebrow as he motioned him inside Hogwarts.

"Ask Draco." Was the curt reply he got, before the man next to him stopped in mid step, eyes slightly closed, head tilted back in one side, as if something was encircling him. "The castle remembers me." Methos whispered at the questioning look of Snape. He could feel the magic that had been weaved in those stones respond to him, and so very soon he could see the spells interweaving between them, creating a colourful blanket of protection around the walls and floor, and ceiling. It felt like home.

"You taught here before?" Snape said curious. His teacher hadn't told him a lot about his life at any time, while he learned the rules of immortality.

"Severus, I helped built the school." Derian snorted and moved towards the Great Hall, where he knew the sorting would take place.

"You did? That's interesting. Maybe you'll tell me the whole story someday." Snape said as he quickened his pace to reach him.

"Maybe." Derian agreed.

"The Headmaster wants to see you." Snape told him before they entered the Great Hall.

"Of course he wants." Derian sighed. "Are you sure there is going to be enough time?"

"Oh, sure. First years are still somewhere in the lake." Snape smirked.

"Ah, the lake. Rowena was a very clever witch." Derian remarked. "A boat journey to something completely new, outlandish. With the dark waters separating you from the rest of the world. A haven."

"I never thought about it like this." Snape led him through a smaller corridor to a secret door that led to the room behind the Great Hall.

"That was the whole point." Derian glanced down at himself and at Snape and felt he was dressed appropriately for a Professor, even if a bit out of fashion. He always liked the long open sleeves falling to the floor with the rest of the folds of his robes. He then allowed Severus to knock and open the door.

The little room was full of people. One would think that with the rate they were changing Professors they would be used to it by now, Snape thought. But, then again, it was the first time the new Professor was being backed up by the resident evil of the Castle.

"Welcome, welcome!" the wizards all turned their heads the moment they heard the door opening, to stare at the new face. "Welcome to Hogwarts!" Dumbledore looked up at him from his seat next to the fire place. "Come take a seat." He invited him, and Derian sat down next to Snape, for the first time in a while, not sprawling, but rather attentively and a bit awed. After all he was in the greatest Wizarding School in Europe.

"Thank you." He said with a tight smile. Derian or Slytherin. Something told him that Slytherin would be by far more amusing. Minus the assumed prejudices. Words usually did leave space to be interpreted as the interpreter wanted to. Godric had made a great effort to have Slytherin's words and books misinterpreted. Oh, well.

"Professor Deofol…"

"Please Derian." he corrected him, twitching a bit. "I know most of the exemplary – I am certain – students here speak lots of languages, and though Old English might not be among them, I would prefer if there were no mentions of a Professor Devil around the school. It is most irritating." He said trying to present a man that pretended to be kind.

"Of course." Dumbledore agreed, his eyes narrowing a bit. "It would be most unfortunate if the students learned who you take your name after."

"Oh, that is going to one of their first assignments. Very few of them will realise that this is what the name means. Most will think it was a title the Dark Lord had received." The end of his lips twitched in something between a smile and a grimace.

"You chose the name for your self?" a strict looking witch with grey hair and dark blue eyes. She was seated next to the Headmaster, dressed in a beautiful dark green dress.

"Heaven forbid! Came down the family." He told her. "And you are…"

"Professor McGonagall, Head of the Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmistress." She replied.

"I suppose that means I should watch my self around you." He smiled at her frowning.

"Michael!" Snape shook him a bit. "Don't fool around." He said in a low whisper. It simply wasn't the time. Not when the whole teaching staff was around. Not when they had so little time.

"Couldn't resist." Michael shrugged. They all looked so strict that it just couldn't be real.

"Right." Dumbledore coughed slightly. "Let me introduce you to the rest of the Staff. I am afraid that we will have to go to the Hall very shortly."

"Yes. And I should go to get the 1st years." McGonagall excused her self and with a last meaningful glance at Dumbledore left the room.

"Yes. Well, Minerva is also our Transfiguration Mistress." Dumbledore told him. "Then you have Flora Sprout Head of Hufflepuff and our Herbology Professor,"

"Pleasure, young man." The Witch smiled at him.

"Fillius Flitwick Head of Ravenclaw and the Charms Professor,"

"Welcome, dear boy." The squealing small Professor offered him his hand, looking absolutely delighted.

"You know of course Severus." The young wizard rolled his eyes at Dumbledore. "Yes, well. Amanda…" Methos raised his eyebrows in the familiar name.

"Delightful to meet someone appraised so much by dear Severus." The Witch interrupted him. "It seems that his good taste extends to people as well as in…other areas." The long dark haired lady seemed to be as playful as his Amanda. Or better the Highlander's. His lips twitched in the idea that he would find out.

"I am the Arithmancy Professor." She continued amidst some snickering from the other Professors. Derian's smile widened. He liked her better already. Arithmancy was what he had taught all those years ago. Arithmancy and Potions. He always was good in logic.

"Hagrid is our Grounds Keeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor,"

"'Allo." The giant boomed at him, making feel a bit uneasy. Were they mad, keeping a giant in the school? Near children? He might look gentle enough, but you simply never knew with giants. After his encounter with them, more than a millennia and a half ago, he had made it a point never to wonder near them. It simply was too painful to joint back whole limbs. Not to mention what happened if you had to re-grow them.

"Berenice Sinistra is our Astronomy Professor," Dumbledore continued unaware of his new Professor's musings. "Remus Lupin is teaching DADA…"

Derian shook hands with a pleasant young man, if a bit common looking. Then he turned to look him again. Really look him. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"and last but not least Sybil Trelawney is our Divination Teacher."

The last announcement was lost to him, his mind already rapidly thinking. There was a yellowish aura surrounding the young man. And a sense of death. In a flash his mind provided his answer, just as his eyes narrowed a bit. Blood, Earth and Moon. That was only applicable to one humanoid species he knew. A Werewolf! He stared at Snape for a while and got the message that he would get an explanation later on. But that wasn't good enough. He was about to say something when something appearing out of nowhere – it seemed to him – engulfed him.

"Hey!" he protested when he found his voice again.

"My dear!" the blue-green thing had a voice! "I saw you coming…"

"You and half of the school, Sibyl." Vector said a bit tartly.

"I meant I saw him coming when I was crystal-gazing. About a month ago." Trelawney answered in the same tone, dislodging from Derian, who looked at Vector gratified. At least he could breathe now. When no one said anything on that, Trelawney turned her attention back to the new Professor. "It is wonderful to meet you at last. The crystal ball would only allow me the knowledge of your coming…"

"Yes, probably that was why you were never anxious about the empty position." Flitwick snorted in a very unlike manner for him.

"I'll have you know, my dear, that I stopped being worried on whether the position would be filled or not a month ago." Trelawney said with fire in her eyes. The she looked at Derian and then turned to Dumbledore apprehensively. "What I was worried about was the man who would be filling the position."

"Oh, wait!" Sinistra whispered to Derian from next to him. "Now, you are going to learn when you will die, and with what horrible way." Derian for his part didn't quite know what to say.

"Albus." Trelawney told him seriously. "This man should be dead. A very long time ago." A stunned silence filled the room. Derian and Severus exchanged glances – it seemed it happened quite often nowadays – Severus thinking only one thing. _She couldn't possibly know…._

"Well that is a first." A snipe voice from behind them announced Professor McGonagall. "I thought you always said what will happen. Not what should have happened. Last time I checked, prophecies were about the future not the past."

"You do not understand Minerva. The cards were clear on it. The Card of Death was for him, but not for the future. It was about the past. And the Crystal Ball, it warned of death and blood and it surrounded him, but it wasn't for the future. It was forever. For as long as he lives." Most of the teachers were looking at her askance. Derian, not knowing how much they credited her prophecies, was becoming increasingly worried and the searching eyes of a certain student of his weren't helping a lot.

"And how long exactly do I live?" he asked, trying to insert a tone of amusement in his voice. Or maybe he was so used in doing it, it came out naturally.

"Forever." The answer had the desired effect on the teaching body. The laughed and relaxed, for after all it was commonly known that immortality was a myth among them. In any case, the only way he could be immortal was if he had the Elixir, but that was impossible. They would have known about it, and they didn't. So Trelawney was back in her usual games.

Only Snape kept looking Derian in wonder, and Lupin, even though he masked it well enough for the rest not to see. But Methos knew he would have to have a serious talk with the werewolf very soon. It was very likely that the magic the werewolf had – not the magician but the animal, the part of him that was in connection with the nature – felt him. Who he was. What he was. Which also meant that he must have known that Severus is one of the Aiweins (everlasting in Gothic) as they called them.

"Well, know that we know the future and the past of Professor Derian" McGonagall said in a crisp voice, tight from trying to control her self, "unlimited as it is, maybe it is about time you decide to honour us – the common mortals – with your presence. The students are beginning to think something is wrong. I believe they think that – as mister Creevy put it – maybe one of Hagrid's Blasted End Screws entered the room, and well, blasted you away! Not a bad idea, either." She said as an afterthought.

The Professors looked scolded enough, except Derian whose fault might be, but well he was the new guy and couldn't be expected to know the time limits and nape who apparently couldn't care less.

"Of course. Forgive us Minerva. We forgot ourselves." Dumbledore said, rising up and moving towards the Great Hall. The rest of the teaching body following him out, while Lupin and Trelawney kept their eyes glued on the new member.

McGonagall, who had snapped the hat from the Headmaster none too kindly, walked forward to the stool the 1st years awaited their sorting. A few sort minutes after she put the hat down, it sprang up in life, starting the new students and begun to sing.

"Some think I'm mad

And some think I'm a fool

But let's not forget

I'm just a tool

"You come and put me on

I'll only sort you all

In the house you belong

That's why I'm here after all.

"In Gryffindor, I know the type,

The bold and reckless, like Godric,

I will sort in and try.

"Hufflepuff it is for those

Loyal who remain, even though Helga,

Would think it's time to strain

"Ravenclaw, worry not you lot

As clever as Rowena

None has yet been born

"Slytherin, the last,

Please forgive the pan

But Salazar shouldn't have chosen

A last name like that

"Those that will do

All to survive

Those are the ones

Slytherin admires

"Come along and put me on

Don't worry, fool me you cannot

I'll sort you all to the house

I reckon you belong"

The great hall exploded in clapping and laughing at the song. On the high table the teachers were looking at it a bit dazed. The hat had actually insulted some of the students and all the houses, and not so subtly either and it just wasn't supposed to be doing that.

"That was good." Derian whispered to Snape. He looked back at him surprised.

"You liked it? It just insulted the houses."

"Of course it did. You wouldn't possibly believe how much time it took me to find a hat that could be rude." Derian said amused. "My present for Godric. He did like mad hats." Then again it could be the first time it was doing it for a long time, judging from the stunned faces of the Professors. Maybe it had felt him in the School and this was a sort of a welcome back.

"You really must tell me of those days." Snape replied. "Did you know Slytherin as well?"

"You could say he was my alter ego." Derian snorted. "We were pals." He thought about the Hat. 'That had to be the stupidest idea Godric had. The others had found it amusing, to enchant it in order to have their own students together. Truth to be told he had thought it might be good, at the time. They had been so stupid. He, at least, should have known better. Student of human nature indeed. He snorted silently at his own foolishness. That hat had caused so many troubles in the end.

People really didn't need any serious excuses to mistrust or to think bad for the others around them. After all these years, Methos had to believe that people might think of someone to be good when first met, but it wouldn't take time since they saw alternative motives behind his every act or spoken word, if that person so much as thought or looked differently. And here, they were told from the very first moment that they were different.

He should have said something to the founders.

Students were almost finished being sorted out and he noticed how Snape would memorize each and every one of them, regardless their house. He was quite sure that the younger wizard would be able to tell him even now, who of these students would be friends or enemies. Snape had it in himself. This, take everything in and analyze any possible aspect you can think of. And then redo it. It had taken him hundreds of years to realize how necessary that was, and a few more centuries to make it into an art. For Snape it came quite natural. Once again Methos was sorry Snape had to live the life he led. But maybe it would be better in the long run.

"Welcome back, students." Derian was pulled out of his musings at the sound of Dumbledore's voice. He turned to look at the Headmaster, his eyes falling instead on the curious Potions Master. That man was way more perceiving than what he felt comfortable with. He had better remind himself that Snape, though just a child for him, was also quite a formidable opponent. Walls should be built a little bit higher. "This is most certainly going to be an un-forgetful year. Forces stronger than ever before have gathered around us, but let me remind you that as long as we trust each other, as long us we stay united then we have nothing to fear, for no one, not even the Dark Lord will be able to defeat us. Difficult times are ahead of us, but you are quite safe here. Lord Voldemort cannot, will not reach you here."

Methos heard Snape snorting next to him. Flitwick shot him a disapproving look from next to him. Snape only shrugged. He knew better than anyone that no one would ever be safe from the Dark Lord. Anywhere. And in any case, so many students had already sworn their allegiance to him, that Hogwarts was sufficiently infiltrated.

"On a lighter notice" the Headmaster went on oblivious to the dark thoughts of his Potions Master "the Forbidden Forest is called such for a reason, so please do no wander around it. And Mr. Filch has a list of objects that are not allowed in Hogwarts. If anyone is interested please feel free to request it from him. And now, eat, drink, and be merry."

"For tomorrow you die." Whispered Snape.

"You've grown up bitter, haven't you?" Derian stated us he saw the plates in front of him filling with food.

"And you blame me, why?" Snape raised a fine eyebrow

"No, I suppose I don't. I know I was bitter after all those years of teaching those stupid fearful muggles." He grimaced at the thought.

"McGonagall has given you the program I suppose."

"Yes." Derian groaned. "Remind me why I agreed to work in a school, again? Nine o'clock almost every day…" he took a bite of food remembering the good old days when he only had to get up at noon.

"You'll get used to it."

"Right."

"You are gathering more curious glances than any new Professors that I have seen." Snape remarked

"Dumbledore forgot to announce me. That ought to be a bit disconcerting."

"True. That and the fact that you are having a polite conversation with the resident evil." Vector from next to him said smiling.

"Amanda! You have no respect." Snape faked mock horror at her words.

"Severus, please! You know very well what I think of the tall dark broody and just a bit evil Professor of this school" Vector only but purred. Next to Snape Flitwick started coughing ferociously. "Something wrong Filius?" Vector asked coldly.

"Nothing dear" he said not really good at masking his amusement. "Just choked while drinking."

"One would have thought a man at your age would know how to swallow." Vector snorted.

"Not that I don't find this really entertaining" Derian decided to speak, already loosing his fight to keep a straight face, "but don't you think we should carry this conversation away from prying eyes? Students' especially? Or I am afraid our Potions Master is going to loose his fame as evil and mean. Especially if they see him grinning like a twelve year old boy."

"You are not helping" Snape said raising his glass to hide his smirk that tended to become something less terrifying. Far less terrifying. Vector and Flitwick were already grinning behind their hands. Derian turned to see Dumbledore staring at them strangely.

"I know. Oh, I know." Derian smirked and went on with his food as if nothing had happened. He was quite aware that some had seen them. Well, it would be difficult to miss their expressions since they had been staring at them from the very beginning. Five sets of eyes from the Gryffindor table, some from the Slytherin, and one or two from the Ravenclaws. And not all were shot at him. That ought to be an interesting year. He needed the change, he decided.

After all that fiasco with MacLeod, it was good to remind himself that there were places at this planet that considered him to be as dangerous and formidable as the rest. 'You have no one but yourself to blame that the Highlander thinks you a softy.' He heard his inner voice. 'Yeah right.' Methos thought back 'that overlarge Boy Scout has a tendency to believe what he wants not what there is. It's his own fault he can't see me for who I am. Gods, I walked for millennia on this planet so that some day a child would come and convince himself, and me at times, that I am not good enough. That I, of all people, need protection!'

He attacked his food venomously ignoring the glances Snape shot at him. The Potions Master on the other hand could not stop looking at him. He was surprised at how quickly his teacher's mood would change. A few minutes he would be happy, grinning like an idiot, and the next moment he looked ready to kill whoever dared to speak to him. Something had happened to him, he mused. Something not very long ago, for he hadn't been able to burry it. Something that had hurt him, possibly more than he cared to admit. He would find out, he promised himself.

The first dinner of the new teaching year ended with a last announcement. After all had finished eating – or almost all for there were always those students that wanted more – Dumbledore rose again.

"Now, before you go to bed, allow me to introduce to you two teachers that joined us for this year. First" he smiled "and I am sure most of you will remember him, Professor Remus Lupin will once more be teaching you Defense again the Dark Arts."

The Gryffindor table erupted applauding, as Remus Lupin smiled gently. Methos noticed that the rest of the tables were more restrained in their cheering. Just some applauding that was sufficiently lost in the mayhem the Gryffindors created. There was a story there, he knew. And looking at Lupin he could easily guess what. They would have to talk sooner or later. He sighed. This was probably why he stayed away from the wizarding world for so long. It was so perplexing. And boring at times.

"Also since Professor Fennel retired last year," Dumbledore continued after the applauding had died down, "this year Ethics of Magic, will be taught to the 5th years and up by our new Professor, Derian Deofol."

Derian had to hide a smile when he saw Draco Malfoy urging his fellow Slytherins to cheer for him. The same thing Luna Lovegood was doing from the Ravenclaw Table. The rest of the Professors looked at him curiously. Derian smirked as he sat back to enjoy the display.

"Yes…hem…please calm down now." Dumbledore said after a few moments. "It is time we retire. Feel free to do so after we sing our Schools anthem. Have a productive year, all of you." He said both to the students and the teachers.

"Oh, hell." Snape muttered just before the singing begun. "Run for your lives!"

Methos had to restrain his hands from covering to his ears, to protect him from what must have been the loudest and worst Cacophony he had ever heard in his life. He winced just as some thought-to-be-clever students tried their luck with high pitched notes – very high pitched notes. Ear splitting in fact.

Methos cursed the time and day he decided he would return to this school. And it only was his first hours here.

Very soon the Great Hall was empty as all departed, leaving an immensely relieved new Professor.

"At least you don't get to hear this every single year." Snape told him as they too got up to leave the Great Hall. "And you won't listen to it again till next year." If he was still around there next year, Methos thought. He silently promised to himself that he wouldn't.

"I can't even begin to express how much I pity you." He agreed with his student, as he followed him in the hallways that were to be his house for this year.

**Hmm…changed a few things. Little, little errors, and a small little thing that happened with Trelawney. You'll see why. Sorry if I confused you.**


	5. Slytherin Tower, Professor's Quarters

**Disclaimer: **_Thought I go with a more reasonable one, this time. So, as you know, I solemnly declare I do not own Harry Potter or Highlander universes. In fact it's all their fault. And you should know exactly who I mean. _

_I would have got the chapter out earlier, but I had internet connection problems. In fact I still have. _

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**Slytherin Tower**

**Professor Derian Deofol's Quarters**

"So what do you think, Michael? Sorry Derian." Severus had tapped into a wall and then walked right through it, followed by Michael, aka Derian, aka Methos.

His new rooms were located in the Slytherin tower, higher than the student's rooms. A huge window that from the outside looked solid rock – as Methos knew very well – overlooked the lake and the north-eastern horizon. Michael was pleased to see that his original thought of gaining entrance to his old rooms wouldn't be that difficult after all. From here he had entrance to the roof of the tower, where hidden was on of the ways to his on little hidden heaven in this castle. He would only have to re-open it again. Nothing too difficult.

Mihcael walked a bit around, discovering his home for the next year. Around the circular window couches and armchairs were set around a low table, also in a circle. Behind them was his desk – made of dark ebon wood, the same as the rest of his furniture – empty now. A smile spread on his lips as he saw the library. It stood great and huge on the wall opposite the window. Already filled with some books, it had enough space for him to fill it with all he liked. He already could see it. The book case full of ancient books and his journals – he always brought them with him. On the desk he would put his desktop and magic it so it could work in this environment.

Some of his swords and knives he would display on the walls that was built in the centre of the circular room. Oh yes. It would be great.

"What do I think?" he asked Severus with a wink. He shut his eyes mumbling underneath his breath certain spells he just made up and saw in his mind the room just as he wanted it. He felt a rush of air as magic moved around him and Severus – who stood there flabbergast of what he was seeing was happening – shifted and moved to create what he had asked for. "I think I should be the one asking what do _you_ think."

Michael opened his eyes and smiled as he looked around. Yes. This was much, much better. Here he thought to him self he could come to feel like home very soon.

"I think...I think...it's ok." Severus said carefully. "Just I had forgotten what it meant you being around and doing magic." He sat at a chair when Methos offered him and watched his teacher settling himself down.

"Youth!" Michael smirked. "So easily pleased." He looked around and then asked Severus. "How do you get things?"

"Things? What do you mean?"

"In the old days, when we wanted something, we had to go get it. You know like drinks, food, that kind of stuff." His left hand was writing circles in the air. "The food appeared in the Great Hall, previously. Who brought it?"

"Oh! You mean the House Elves." Severus understood. He would always forget that what today seemed obvious and common it wasn't so all those years back. House Elves hadn't filled Hogwarts before 1608. In the time of the Founders, there were none. He felt surprise in the fact that his teacher was so old. Think was, he didn't really know how old Michael was. "You just call them."

"Just call them." Michael said carefully. "Right. , come little creatures I want something to drink?" There was a bang, and some smoke and a short House Elf appeared, wearing a kitchen towel, sparkling clean.

"Something like that, yes." Severus said, smirking.

"Master Snape, new Master," the Elf squealed, in what Derian thought probably was a female. "What can Nebet bring?"

"Nebet?" Michael's eyebrows rose. "That's interesting." He said in the air, ignoring two pairs of confused eyes. "Let's see. You have any beer?"

"Beer?" The Elf's eyes widened. "No, master. No alcohol allows in school." She said very fast.

"Darn." Michael frowned.

"If I may?" Severus suggested and Michael shrugged. "Nebet, bring us tea. Green."

"Yes, Master Snape." The elf screeched a bit and disappeared with a bang that made Michael twitch.

"Noisy little things." He commented.

"Useful though." Severus replied. "I think you can have one as a personal servant if you want."

"Really? Do you have one?"

"No, not really. They are not allowed to enter my lab, and I don't want them around my quarters either. They might see something they shouldn't. I clean after my self."

"Yes. I suppose you can't take the chance."

A bang and a screeching noise announced the teas and the next one the time to speak. Seriously. Severus set down his cup and with a wave of his hand formed a spell that would allow them to talk in private. No matter what.

"I see you have improved." Michael said satisfied.

"Wandless? Yes. I pretty much can do everything without a wand now. Though it is a bit taxing at times." The younger man replied with a content smile.

"Good. Anything else?" he asked with a pointed look.

"How many years is it? Eighteen?"

"I thought it was ten."

"No. You missed some years." The young man said with a teasing smile. "Going senile in your old age?"

Michael smiled.

"Maybe."

"Well, to answer your question, I am fine. Some heads, but not many, seeing as I am out of Holy Ground a grand total of three months per year. And then again, I don't go out asking for trouble. I like my privacy."

"Good. I told you before, you are one of by best students. The others wouldn't believe me when I told them about the Game being nonsense, after they took their first head."

"Well, others aren't like me."

"How true." Michael chuckled. The young man had grown up finely. Still dark and broody, but powerful enough for a young one. He wondered if MacLeod would believe Methos if he told him that the Game was nonsense, that your power grew stronger with time, and that there was no prize, aside that little thing he owned and someone, some millennia ago, had really wanted to own. Nah. He wouldn't believe him. Never. "So about Voldemort."

"He is back" it was as someone switched the lights off, the way Severus darkened.

"Yes. You said that in your letter." Michael pointed. "What happened? With Lily" he knew she was dead.

"You liked her." It was a statement.

"As if you didn't" Michael snorted. Of course he had liked her. But of course she had eyes only for that fool Potter. No wonder Adam had fell so badly with Alexa. She reminded him of Lily. Ironical he thought, he had spend with them so little time. Both of them dying so young.

"I concede." Severus relented. "You know Lily believed both of us." Michael nodded. "After it became obvious that James would never believe about the Elders being real, we thought we would keep him out of the game. After all, your plan would work just fine. And it did. Pettigrew betrayed them as you thought he would, even though at that time both Lily and I were certain Black had done it," to Michael he seemed to darken at the mention of that particular archenemy even more. "Voldemort because of the prophecy did come for Harry, though we had also warned the Longbottoms. And all worked. I was with him. I had cast the necessary spells, both on Lily and on Harry, and then Voldemort arrived. For our bad luck, Lily hadn't been able to send James away that night, and he stupidly attacked me. Well of course Voldemort took care of him, but his spell threw me on a wall and I lost consciousness. And..."

"You weren't able to maintain the spells." Michael finished for him.

"No. I wasn't. When I came around Lily was just killed. I managed to raise the spell once more to save Harry the last moment, but it wasn't complete. It was successful but not thorough. Voldemort's soul left his body, but wasn't bound, rather it roamed free gaining strength all these years. And Harry, somehow got connected with him." Michael groaned.

"Lovely. Do tell me, how did he manage to bind himself to a body?"

"He made a new one. With a Bone-Flesh-Blood spell."

"Practical. Not nice but it will do." Michael commented.

"It does. And he is after Harry. And Harry is being funneled to fight against the Greatest Evil Wizard in some millennia, and is expected to defeat him. He is only 16 for Merlin's name!" Methos would have laughed at the mention of one of his aliases if it hadn't been for the previous comment.

"He has fought against Voldemort?" he said suddenly loosing his colour.

"Yes." Severus grew a bit uneasy at the wide eyes that looked at him with almost fear.

"He must not, in any circumstances fight against him. Ever, ever again." Michael said adamantly.

"Why?"

"Because in the best case, he wins and dies along that way himself, while in the worst, he wins and becomes the next Dark Lord, having absorbed the essence of Voldemort." Severus stood there gasping.

"Why?" he asked again, this time worried

"Use your head, Severus. He is bound to him, as Voldemort is bound to Harry. When one of them dies, their essence will be absorbed by the one alive. It is something like a dark Quickening."

"Merlin! I had no idea!" Severus stood.

"No. You wouldn't. Not many know of this."

"Why didn't you tell me? Scratch that. Why the hell did you leave? At the end? I was not ready. If you were here, if only you were here, then he would have died, he..."

"Severus!" Michael raised his voice to be heard above the young wizard's ranting. "It was time for me to move on. No you weren't ready, I know. I had hoped that maybe we would be lucky enough to pull this of..."

"Hope for the best, plan for the worst, wasn't this what you always told me?" Severus yelled

"My time was running out. If I had stayed here longer, the Watchers would have figured something was not right. And you don't want them to know about Magic. Do you know how many Elders are born every millennia? Two. Do you know how many are alive at the moment? Three. Me, you and one you don't want to cross. Not that you want to cross me, but anyway. I understand that you weren't ready, but your time was running out as well.

"As much as you'd like to believe otherwise, me staying here then wouldn't have altered a thing. You can't understand why, now. You are too young. And then you were too young to be taught more things. Sometimes magic is about experience. I was planning to come back to you after, say thirty years to pick up your training. You are one of the Elders, Severus, but far from being one completely. You won't become one even in the next few hundred years, even if you learn in record time.

"Some things require time. Unfortunately this is one of these things. Just feel glad you have a teacher. I lost mine way too soon. You don't want that happening. Trust me." Michael said forcefully as he looked directly into the other man's eyes. After a few moments Severus calmed down and dropping his stare – he knew it was fruitless to think he might win the contest – he nodded affirmatively.

"I trust you, sir. Forgive me."

"Don't worry. You are young. You are entitled to some mistakes." Michael shrugged it off. "Now, tell me what you thought I might be helpful with."

"Except being able to kill Voldemort?" the young man said sarcastically. Methos response was to snort. "I don't know. Come up with a plan? Teach Potter?"

"You could do that." Michael objected.

"I could do that, if Potter didn't hate me."

"I see." Michael remain thoughtful for some moments. "Might I inquire as to why he hates you?" the look Severus gave him was all the answer he needed. "Ah so." He sight. "How convenient."

"You can't expect me to treat him kindly, can you? He is a Gryffindor. Hell, he is supposed to have bested the Dark Lord!" Severus smiled sadly. "And I am – was – am in _His_ service."

"Yes. There is that." Michael moaned. "Fine. I'll see what I can do. And I had hoped this would be a nice _calm_ change of scenery."

"Really?" Severus said surprised.

"No. Not really."

They spent the rest of the time it took them to drink the forgotten teas in silence, each lost in his thoughts. Severus couldn't stop wondering who his teacher really was. He had searched far and long since the last time they had been together, some twenty years ago, everything he could find on immortals.

Just as Michael had told him, then, most were simply myths. They were myths both among the muggles and the wizards. But then he had noticed that some 'magical' creatures seemed unusually reserved around him. Listening to him as if their lives depended on it. That had happened around Michael – now Derian – as well. He had noticed it and asked about it.

His teacher had told him that the creatures knew what they were. Even the wizards and in a lesser point the muggles recognized them – subconsciously – as something more. Something to be revered.

Problem was some of those wizards that noticed those things were among those that should never know the truth.

Michael, to Severus, was the biggest mystery of all. Not even the Myth of Methos perplexed him so. Here was a man that when in the muggle world seemed absolutely fitting in and now...now he looked so different. Truth was he had some reservations on how well Michael would fit in, in Hogwarts. He might be a wizard but those two years they had been together he had never mentioned that he had lived in the wizarding world more than a few days each time, just to keep up with their news.

When he walked down the train, just three hours ago, Severus couldn't believe his eyes. He wouldn't have recognized him but for the fact that he was the only grown up traveling on the train besides the students. And now the new information about the Dark Lord. Things would be very difficult for them. And they would have to decide what they would say to the Dark Lord as well. He hoped his teacher would think of a plan. He had several, and maybe among them they would figure out.

Michael, on the other hand, was thinking more practical thoughts. He would have to approach that cute little Elf, named Nebet. He wondered if she knew what her name meant. He would certainly inform her if not. They would have to come to an agreement. He wanted to enter his first quarters and his hidden library. They would have to come to an agreement.

And he had just the right incentive for her.

But that he could do tomorrow. Now it was late. About time he went to sleep. After all, tomorrow he would be teaching Magic in Hogwarts for the first time in a thousand years.

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_I know, I know. Small chapter. Well smaller than usual. Don't sue me, alright? Better tell me what you think. Makes my day any time. I think next one is longer._

_By the way, since it came up in the reviews, I kind of have Methos referring to him as Derian or Methos, or Michael or any other name that might come up later on, when he thinks of instances that happened when he was known under that identity. So if he thought of some time he spent with MacLeod, for example, he would refer to himself as Methos or Adam. I hope this makes it a bit clearer now. Also other people are bound to think of him under the identity they have met him first. So, especially for Severus – since he is the only one at the moment that has known him from some other time Methos is Michael, and that is the name I will be using when Severus thinks of him. _

_I am sure I will make mistakes on it and you are very welcome to correct me. If you think this is complicated and obstructs the story, tell me and I will go back calling him with one or two names only. Methos or Derian most probably. It is just easier to name him after the identity he is thinking or operating under at that moment in story._

_So to make it absolutely clear: Methos is Methos when he thinks of any time people knew him as Methos or we don't know the name he went under_

_He is Michael when talking with Severus, as he is the wizards teacher_

_He is Adam Pierson for people that knew him under that name –Alexa, Don, sometimes Joe. _

_He is Derian for the rest of the wizarding world. Students, Professors, etc._

_If you are not well framed with the Highland universe it doesn't really matter, I think. Some names might seem more familiar to you, but that's all. If there are scenes you don't understand and dying to find out what the heck I meant there, just ask me and I will explain._

_That'd be all, me thinks. If you found all these unnecessary, sorry for having you read it all._

_Many, many thanks to those that have reviewed. I can only bow my head in shame, thinking how good you are to me, and how long it takes me to update. _


	6. Tuesday 2nd, Day one of classes

_**Disclaimer: **This story and characters is a work of fantasy. Any similarities with the work of authors or companies are unintentional. That'd be of course if they were mine._

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**Monday 4th September**

**Day 1 of Classes**

First day of the school. He couldn't not be apprehensive. Things did change in a thousand years. For the better or for the worst, to close one more of history's circles, it didn't really matter. They changed. Just as people did. And though he had taught years in schools around the world, magic was something totally different. He skipped breakfast, he never really had any, so that he could steal some more minutes of sleep. He really did hate waking up early in the morning. When he finally got up, he took his books, dressed himself in one set of his newly acquired robes, fixed his hair - he had forgotten that long hair required quite some more time if they were to be presentable – and left his rooms to his classroom.

He walked slowly, not really paying any attention to any of the students that looked at him. He had other things on his mind at the moment. His first class was Gryffindors and Slytherins. What the Headmaster tried to accomplice with that was a mystery to him. He knew of Severus class, had heard all about it from other Professors and had already decided that joining these two houses wasn't good. Especially not when one house represented the opposite side of the other in terms of white and black. Or good and evil, he thought smirking. And he also was aware that he was about to teach the sixth years. The one year that included the famous Harry Potter. Who had been giving lessons to some of the rest of the children. From every house except Slytherin.

He really didn't like that. This discrimination. They had told everyone they thought trust worthy. And that everyone was from any other house than Slytherin. Which meant they thought all Slytherins were bad. And the worse thing according to Severus was that the Slytherins them selves tend to believe the same thing after years of hearing insult upon insult from the 'light' houses. Not that all of them were angels. Derian snorted. Far cry from it. Slytherin wouldn't accept any one with out a little darkness in him/her. Not because he himself was evil – as many would probably think he was or even is – but because that's how the world worked. And he would have to teach those children about the balance the world needed. For if there was no evil, how can you possibly define good?

He stepped inside his classroom noticing that most of the students were not in yet. He sighed and looked at his clock. Well, it was five minutes before the hour begun. He should wait. He left his books down and sat at the edge of his desk, totally out of a Professor's character if the looks he received from the few students in the classroom were any indication, and set out to discover his students. At least those who were in.

"Mister Malfoy." He said pleased he remembered the boy. "Nice to see you again."

"Professor." Draco smiled. "So, how was your first night in Hogwarts?" more than one student turned to look at them. After all not always did you have students who could ask such stuff. And not always a Professor simply smiled and answered.

"Oh, you know. Swearing half the night for all the things I forgot to bring with me." Many student's snickered, trying to pass unnoticed. After all they didn't know him yet. It was probably that moment that he realized something. All the magic he had been doing – and it wasn't that much if you forgot about the hair and his rooms – he had done it without his wand. In fact he didn't have a wand. He cursed inwardly as he tried to smile to the children who entered the room. How could he have possibly forgotten he needed a wand?

"Well, seeing that its time to start why don't you close the door?" Derian said to the last boy that entered and still was at the door. He would have to deal with that problem later on. Now it was time he taught those children something new. He then motioned him to sit, noticing that there were certain people missing. Still.

"As you probably know by now, my name is Derian Deofol. If you so want, you can call me Derian, though I would, please, beg you not to call me with my last name. I find it, ahm, a bit well...anyway." He was satisfied when he saw some of them grinning. That was good. "This is my first time as a teacher, but I would warn you not to think that I am rusty with any of my magic. So, what we will be-"

"Sorry sir." A girl with blonde hair said as she walked into the classroom, delayed, interrupting him. "I am afraid I lost my way coming here."

"I see." Derian said, amusement clear in his eyes. "And you are?"

"Pansy Parkinson, sir."

"Yes. Miss Parkinson. A Slytherin, right? I suppose you are aware that you are a sixth year, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"And as such I find it difficult to believe that you do not know this castle well enough not to take into consideration the tricks it can play. That will be, lets see you are 2 minutes late, that will 2 points off your house, for not planning for the worst." He said as he motioned her to sit down. "I suppose most of you believe that Ethics of Magic is a simple class, where we will be spending three hours per week doing nothing else but talking. Well you are wrong. This class is go-" the door was once more opened and another three students came in, flushed and out of breath. "Well, well, well."

"Sorry sir, we..."

"No need, Miss Granger right? Do sit down please. I suppose you lost your way coming here as well?" he asked rather sarcastically. "What, the stairs chose to change place while you were on them? And I suppose they wouldn't change back, so you had to take the long way, right?"

"How the..."

"As a matter of fact..."

"Well, yes." Three voices said together.

"I see." Derian didn't think there was any point in telling them that he had arranged the whole thing. "Well, seeing that you came three minutes later that miss Parkinson, that will be 5 points of each of you. Gryffindor, if I remember correctly?" He had to show them that he favored no one.

"Yes, sir." They said, clearly put off at loosing 15 points in the first day. In their first lesson.

"Good. Now as I was saying, before interrupted, twice, I have to teach you about magic. Not the spells, but the reasons behind them. It's not history, it is philosophy. In your DADA class you are supposed to learn how to think for the best and plan for the worst. How to analyze any situation and producing plausible solutions, and plans to act. How to see the Dark arts. Now, this is no easy at all. Usually it is not even possible to see them.

"In that class you try to learn what magic is Dark magic. What spells are not to be used and how you will block them. In my class I ask you to forget all these, for really they are nonsense." A low murmur spread all over the class. "In my class there will be no dark magic, for this is a label we ourselves created. In my class we will be talking about everything. Any topic you might want, I might ask you to prepare or think about. From all points of view. Either you think it is wrong, or right, evil or not.

"It is the only way I can think of, to make you understand that there are no lines to be drawn. In a case of life or death all are permitted. Proud heads, and honor will only lead you to death. Ethics can lead you to death, as effectively as any 'dark' spell. For ideals and beliefs are what people are manipulated to fight over nowadays in what we hypocritically call advanced countries.

"This will not be just some theory class. Here you will learn to understand all kinds of magic."

Derian was quite pleased with himself to see that most looked at him as if his was crazy. After all this was supposed to be an easy class with some essays and stuff like 'why you can't raise the dead from...well the dead'.

"Any questions so far?"

"Sir, you are not allowed to teach us the actual dark arts." Granger said raising her hand.

"That was not a question." Derian replied with a smile. "But since you brought that into attention, let me ask you a question. What are the Dark Arts?"

"Well..." Hermione sat back biting her lip, clearly thinking. "I suppose those spells that hurt the one you cast it upon. When you force someone to be in a position he has not chosen."

"Very well said." Derian said watching the girl beaming in self satisfaction. Time to change this. "Can you tell me one spell that cannot do that?" Hermione opened her mouth to answer this stupid question, when she realized what the question was. Loudly she closed her mouth and thought about it harder. And then some more ignoring the rest of the students that were amazed she didn't have an answer to a question. "Can any of you answer this question?" Derian asked the rest of the class, quite pleased to see that many were going through the spells they knew thinking over them and discarding them as able to cause harm to another person.

"What about lumus?" Parvati Patil proposed. "I mean it just provides light, it's innocent."

"A good example. Can anyone think a reason why this could be a dark spell?" Derian waited for a minute and when no one answered he sighed. "I suppose you are aware of a certain species called trolls." The class nodded. "These are nocturne animals. That means they prefer dark to light. They come out during night to hunt and hide in their nest during day light. Now these creatures can and have hunted humans." He noted the Gryffindor trio to shiver a bit. One more thing he should learn about. "They are very difficult to kill as they are so huge and hard skinned, which means anything you throw at them has to be thrown quite hard if it is to do any damage. There is, though, one way to kill them. A certain way to kill them. And that is a huge amount of light. An amount of light that can and has been provided by your innocent spell _lumus_. Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think that any of the trolls will willingly be put in a situation where they turn into stone forever, virtually dying." Derian said noticing their confused glances.

"But if they do hunt you and want to eat you, then is it considered bad to protect yourself?" Hermione asked.

"No." Derian was very pleased on how easily these children where manipulated to ask the right questions. "But it would be evil if you weren't hunted by them and killed them because you could."

"But they are not humans."

"So? They are life. A unique form of life. They might be stupider and uglier but that doesn't mean they don't have the same right you have in life. They were created after all. That means they must have a purpose. Even if that purpose is one you cannot understand."

"But some life forms are inferior to others." That must have been a Slytherin as well.

"Sure they are." Derian agreed. "Life forms vary in their powers and abilities. Lions are stronger than humans, but humans are smarter – or at least think they are –"the students laughed at that. "Sharks are very dangerous to us, as everyone would claim, but who is the predator and victim in this case?"

"The Sharks. They kill us." Weasley said confidently.

"True. But how many of us? They kill eight or ten people each year world wide, because they mistaken us most of the time for seals, or even to feed from us to survive, but we kill around several thousand – if I remember correctly – each year, just to use their fin to make soup. Something we could do with out. So yes they are very dangerous, and have evolved to fit almost perfectly in their natural habitat, but who is the evil here? Who performs genocide?" there was no answer. He didn't expect one. Not really.

"And to return to magic. Avada Kedavra, I am sure you are all familiar with" – they simply nodded – "is consider Dark Arts, punishable with life time in Azkaban. Yet if you use it to kill someone threatening you or your family? Is that dark arts? What if you used it on someone injured so badly that cannot be saved, or ill with a terminal disease? Is that evil or compassion? Is compassion such a bad characteristic to be punished? Do you know how and who first created this curse?" surprisingly one hand shot in the air. Well maybe not that surprisingly.

"Yes Mr. Malfoy?"

"It was created by Selest Snape, in 1050. It is thought that Salazar Slytherin himself helped her." Derian nodded in agreement as he heard murmurs of dark witches and wizards.

"And would you also know who Selest Snape is? Except, that is, the ancestor of your Potions Professor?"

"She is considered to be the best Healer of all times." Malfoy answered well aware for some time now what his professor was leading them to see, to understand. And he respected him even more for this. "She is said to have cured even Godric Gryffindor from a serious disease, even when he had tried to get her to trial as a Dark Witch when she rejected him for Slytherin after her husband died mysteriously, leaving her with two daughters."

"Impressive." Derian said silently, trying not to fall back on memories both too fond and hurting for him. "I wasn't aware that this was common knowledge."

"It isn't. One of the daughters married a Malfoy and this story is always taught down in the family. Any Malfoy would know it." Draco answered.

"Well. Let me assure the rest of you that is it true. I own the diaries of both the founders and have read this story from both their hands." He said to the rest of the students. Half of them really disappointed that the founder of their house could have done something like this. "So, are you also aware of why Selest Snape created the Avada Kedavra spell?"

"I think it had something to do with the plague."

"Yes. At that time conditions weren't the best that could exist, we have the muggles to thank for the wonders of the moderns technology of heating and pluming. As a result many epidemics were waiting around the corner to kill a few more people. You will certainly know the Black Death early in the 14th century." Thankfully he hadn't been there at the time. Arabia was such a nicer place than Europe that time of era. Especially with Kronos lurking in the shadows. "Medicine wasn't as good as it is today, so Selest Snape decided that it was best to kill those who wished it rather than let them suffer days or even weeks before they slowly painfully died. She offered them an easy way to pass on, with out pain. Trust me when I say she was viewed as an angel rather than a Dark Witch."

"But Avada Kedavra is evil." Potter said from his place next to Hermione. Derian sighed. This was the fine point they had to understand.

"Avada Kedavra is a spell. It is not evil. It has no power by it self. It is like any other spell you know. A little bit more difficult, but no different none the less. It is the humans that we are evil, or at least a part of all of us is evil. It is that part that we call, the reason why we cast a spell that draws the line between good and evil, light and dark. Magic is just that. Magic. We are the ones that use it and manipulate it. It is our decisions and intentions that are Dark or Light. And make no mistake. No one is only good or only evil. There is no black and white in real life. Only shades of grey. And that is a fact." He said in a final way.

"What about Voldemort?" That had to be Harry Potter, again.

"What about him?" Derian decided to play the boy's game. After all he had heard of the last year, he knew the boy was confused.

"He is the Dark Lord. He is evil." The boy said with a certainty that spoke volumes.

"Is he? Is he really?" Derian raised his eyebrow. "Why? Because he has certain ideas that –right or wrong it doesn't matter- don't sit well with you?"

"He thinks a whole portion of the population is beneath us." Potter said clearly getting angry.

"And are they not? We are more powerful than they. We are better than muggles in that aspect. They usually are smarter than us, for wizards rarely use our heads, they are better than us in that aspect. But we can use our brains, otherwise there wouldn't be those among us that are brilliant. Or do you doubt that a man like Lord Voldemort is less than that? Look what he has done. You don't have to agree with it. In fact you cannot judge him for you know nothing for the man,-"

"I know enough."

"Would you bet your life on it? Your friends' lives? Mr. Potter, how can you hope to defeat someone you know nothing about? You understand nothing about? Do you know why he fell into the dark arts? Why he became so powerful, with so little respect to life? Who are you to say that he is not right in his views about the world?

"Let me tell you this. The victors are the ones that write the history. If your 'light' side wins then Voldemort will be the one wrong, deranged, mad. If his 'dark' side wins then you will be the fools, that couldn't see the truth that was staring at them all along. The weaklings that will run to obey to his every wish, for frankly you will have no choice, and will be quite happy with yourselves and life that have succeeded keeping him happy for one more day and your selves alive."

"If this is how the future will be with him in power, I'd rather be dead."

"You say this now. Now that you think only of you. What about all the others that have to think about family? That have more reasons to live than freedom. You know slavery isn't such an alien aspect of human kind as you might think. Slaves seized to legally exist not two hundred years ago. And Slaves are still here in the world as we speak. In many countries, even though you might think it is not slavery. And what about the house elves? They are slaves. Work with out payment. But who do you think has a better time, the House elves in Hogwarts or some eight year old child that works twelve hours a day earning far less than what the poorest of you does?" no one answered. No one would speak. Some of them had never considered of these things. Some of them had but had no way to say what they were thinking.

"Our world is made in such a way that some people will always be above others, not because they are always worth it, but because of the circumstances, because of what we call life and blind justice. It is the way things work. Ultimate equality cannot be reached, because frankly, it doesn't exist. But that does not exclude total equality in the face of the law and opportunities. The human kind has yet to reach it. In older times, it still wasn't possible, even though, maybe in secluded small settlements such traits could be found.

"You cannot berate people for trying to do what they think is best for them, or their kind. You can try to do this without hurting others in the process, though it is unrealistic to even think that change can come to you without influencing, sometimes even badly other races. Life is about survival. Those who cannot fight they die. It is so simple. We just choose to forget it when convenient.

"Mr. Potter, you might be surprised to find that Lord Voldemort used to be married with a beautiful witch. I believe that she was put in trial for being a dark witch – and I won't claim she didn't research them or even practice them with her husband. She was condemned to life in Azkaban and died there when she gave birth to her child, just seven months after. The child's fate remains unknown." He added when he saw some of his students getting ready to ask the question.

"And I assume you know how Lord Voldemort was abandoned as a child because his father – who was muggleborn – believed that he was evil seeing that he was the spawn of a witch. Do you know what it is to be raised in an orphanage sixty years ago, and be totally different to the ones around you? I really doubt it. Voldemort didn't decide one fine morning to wake up and take over the world, or say that muggles are inferior to wizards. His life gave him those stimuli, leading him to believe what he is saying.

"Truthfully, where I in his position I would have done the same. He is trying to revenge his family, his life in the only way he knows. And in doing so, he offers us a great lesson. Think about it. And try never to judge before collecting as much information you can get." Derian stopped as the bell rang. Most of the students were so absorbed in what he was saying that they literally jumped from their seats or squealed.

"Right. Since this is the first lesson of the year, I suppose I could allow you a ten minute break." Derian said and jumped of his desk, only now realizing that he had been sitting in one spot for the whole hour. "From next week we won't be having breaks. It's a three hour slot for a reason. You are allowed to bring any books you might want and something to drink or eat.

"Also from next week the class will not be just Slytherins and Gryffindors. You need to see different ways of speaking, and since the Houses exist we should use them for something good for once. So before you leave, write down your name and that of three people that you want to be together in class. Either from your House or another. I won't promise I will manage to put you with all you would like to be, but I'll try my best.

"Well. That be all. Be back in ten minutes."

"Sir?" Granger asked.

"Yes?" Derian said, surprised that the whole class stopped just incase something interested was asked. Well, he certainly never had such success on students before. These children where hungry of something more. Something new. Hadn't anybody seen it?

"You never said what book we are to be using." Derian smiled at that, as the rest of the class groaned. Trust miss Granger the school's Know-It-All to inquire after books.

"I am not giving you one." Derian smiled. "You are old enough to decide for yourself what books you might want to study. The school thinks that you are responsible enough to borrow any book from the library. After all books are just books. They are not evil. It is us that define this with our choice of use of what we learn from them. If there is any book you want to read and for some reason there isn't in the library, or is taken, feel free to ask me about it. Chances are that I will be able to provide you with a copy. That is, unless of course Professor Snape hasn't got his hands on it first."

Some of the students laughed at this, most Slytherins, knowing the love their Head of House had for books that were very rare, and more than once forbidden or dark.

"But..." Derian raised his voice to be heard, forcing them to stop sort. "Some of these books are considered Dark and Evil from our all Knowing and all Wise ministry, and therefore are illegal. So. I want written permission from your guardians that they allow you to study them. For some of these books, either me or some other Professor well framed with the Dark Arts will have to be present there when you consult the book. Some of these books are so old that have gained the essence of their owners. And that makes them less than safe. For anyone that cannot get such a permission, but is dying to read a book that needs permission to do so, come and talk to me and we'll work something out. I've been a researcher most of my life. Trust me when I say I have far more books than Hogwarts can hold."

"I just want you to remember that there are only two rules in life. What a man can do and what a man can't do." He smiled at them as they gathered in the door. "Ten minutes, people." He reminded them.

"That went well!" Derian exclaimed aloud when he was left alone in the classroom.

At least he had managed to keep them from fighting, while providing them topics to think about, sometimes playing the Devil's advocator sometimes not. He could see where he would have success even from now. Draco was ready for something new, probably because his father wasn't around any more, still in prison, though he supposed that this wouldn't last long. Yet the fire had been lit and it would be really difficult to put out.

Hermione also seemed to be grasping things well enough, and even if it was obvious that some things she didn't get, she was willing to try and to understand, that would help her. But he had to make her see that not all knowledge was to be found in a book.

And then there were those two quiet ones. Bullstrode and Longbottom. They weren't ready yet to participate, but their eyes shone at his words. Derian knew they understood more than they would let the others know.

The rest of the class was going to be tougher. They were interested, sure they were. But they got half of what he was saying. They would hear him out, but they were not listening to what he was saying.

And then there was Potter. The boy understood perfectly well what he was saying, but he didn't want to accept it. Scratch that, he fought himself for accepting these things. The boy was trying to harden himself in order to kill. In order not to feel anything when time came. A time that should not come. But life was unfair. And the child would not be allowed to escape this mission. Severus and he had to find a way to make it look like the boy had defeated the Dark Lord. And they would have to make the boy believe that as well. That would take time. And effort. What had he gotten himself into again! He groaned. The bell rung. Time for the rest of his class.

* * *

_A bit philosophical this one, no? Hope it didn't tire you but I had to write what exactly Ethics of Magic is. It only took me 4000 words. There were some important points in there. Hope you spotted them. If not, don't worry. They'll come up later on. _

_To Kyer: There was no way I could have included an explanation of the watchers in the chapter, so I thought I simply include it as a note. Thus, a Watcher is a mortal that belongs to a secret organisation called – big surprise – the Watchers and bears a tattoo on the inside of his wrist that looks like a one and a half w inside a circle. If you do a search in yahoo or google you probably will get a picture of it. So, Watchers exist for about 4000 years – though I think I must have missed the episode were that was discussed so I can't give you more info on it. It usually is just speculation of how they found about immortals and why they watch them. Did I mention that before? Watchers have three main rules. Watch and record but never interfere. That last one was broken all the time be Joe Dawson, Duncan's MacLeod watcher who turned out to be a good pal of Adam Pierson and later of Methos. In some instances individuals turned bad and hunted down immortals, but mainly they simply record the history of Immortals so that MacLeod can read it and decide how many of them he has to whack off. Adam Pierson is an identity of Methos who joined the watchers around 1980-4 and researched the Myth of Methos. He made sure he corrected his chronicle and probably other immortal's chronicles as well, so that he would remain a myth. Unfortunately, for him, but never for us crazed fans of him, he was found by MacLeod when Joe send him to his place to protect him! He's been hanging around since then, even though the Watchers did find out about him eventually. Me thinks that he would have disappeared if it hadn't been Joe. And I know that many say he stays for MacLeod, but allow me to believe otherwise. _

_I hope that this made it clear. Anything else you ask and I'll answer. It's just that usually I have the next chapter written already when I post one so it might not always make it into the story, if I can't integrate it into._

_As for Nebet. A little patience please. After all House-Elves are very intriguing creatures. One has to wonder what is their relationship with Elves._

_Lastly, I made a subtle change in chapter 4. You don't really have to go through it if you are bored, but it might be helpful for a future chapter. It concerns Sibyl. _

_I am very pleased that you enjoy this story. Honestly, I am writing this as much for you as for me. So you should know what is expected from you, now. _

_Till next time._


	7. Tuesday 2nd, Staff Room

_**Disclaimer: **Hogwarts and its population don't belong to me. Neither the wonderful world of magic as described by JK. I wasn't the first to think of immortals either. Which is more than a same as I cannot claim Methos or the stories surrounding him. The Plot is mine though. Except perhaps from certain ideas that I've read in other fanfiction stories, in which case thank you for thinking them and sorry if I don't mention you, but honestly I wouldn't know where to begin from. It's been 4 years I am reading. _

* * *

**Monday 4th of September**

**Staff Room**

Derian walked calmly inside the empty Staff room. He eyed the space and smiled at the thought that it was cozy indeed. Though it wasn't the same room they had used all those hundreds of years ago. The huge Windows overlooked the Forbidden forest, the main gates just visible on the far left side and a small portion of the lake on the right. He sat on a great black leather chair that overlooked towards the Forest and the lake. In his mind he saw an image of the school as it had been then. The forest had seemed darker and more dangerous than now, as well as far closer to the school.

He smiled thinking of how many times in the thirty years he had taught here – slowly aging along with the rest of the Professors helped, of course, by magic – they had to organize search parties to find missing students, until they got it into their minds that one shouldn't wander in there alone, without a Professor. Oh, but he had enjoyed the Forest.

A part of it, now only grass, had reached as far as the lake, numerous Willows hiding the shore by prying eyes. He had spent many, many hours with Selest and their three children. Two girls and a boy. He supposed that MacLeod and pretty much every immortal or mortal who knew of immortals, would have been stunned to learn that the twins – two girls – had actually been _his _children.

Every one knew that Immortals couldn't have children. And it was true, but thing is, he wasn't exactly an immortal, was he? His smile reached his eyes as he could almost picture his little family dining peacefully under the only willow left, at the Northern bank of the lake. He had then charmed it with an everlasting charm and the tree could not die nor people could cut her down. Methos was certain that he could still be able to find their little charm carved on her bark if he looked closely enough.

"You look tired." A voice called from behind.

Derian supposed he was tired. Thankfully he had no lessons after lunch. Someone thought that he could take it easy the first day of teaching. He was glad. Of course he hadn't taught any magic today, chances are he never would have to, only theories and ethics but it was tiresome never the less. He sprawled inside the armchair, sighing happily that he had the rest of the afternoon free.

"Professor McGonagall!" he greeted the Deputy Headmistress. "You won't mind if I don't get up, I hope."

"Nonsense young man." She told him clearly amused. As he had once said, he could do cute and innocent and he was very good at it. "And call me Minerva. We don't keep titles in here."

"Minerva." He nodded and further more, not without noticing how McGonagall's lips curved a little. "How was your day?"

"Typical. I have to admit that I am lucky the rest of the staff haven't noticed that I create the programs arranging for me an easier Monday than the rest have."

"Then I should thank you for doing the same for me."

"Well, I know I put you down for only a few hours on Monday, but then again I wouldn't call easy the sixth year Gryffindor-Slytherin combination. Not for the first lesson of the week at least." Minerva ordered some tea from a house elf. "Would you like something?"

"I don't suppose you have any beer have you?" he knew the answer of course, but it never hurt to ask once more. Maybe...

"No, sir. We have no beer sir." The House Elf said a bit distressed that they couldn't provide his master with his request. _Darn. I really need to have that talk with Nebet. Maybe tonight, _Derian thought to himself.

"Generally nothing of alcohol, yes?" he asked again cursing the idiot who had thought of that rule.

"No, sir. We...

"...is not allowed to bring drinks in school" he mimicked the House elf. "I know, I know. Oh, well. Green tea then. Jasmine flavored."

"Yes, sir." The house elf said and disappeared with a pop.

"So you like beer." Minerva stated. "Isn't it a bit early for beer?"

"It is three in the afternoon. So no it is not late." Derian replied kindly. "Thank you." He said to the elf that pop up again and brought the teas.

"So about my question?"

"Which was? Sorry I got distracted."

"About your first lesson."

"Oh. Well. Charming children. Incredible minds. I can't wait for more." He said as he sipped his tea, slowly, knowing very well that more professors had come in and were looking at him in utter bewilderment. They all knew which class he begun with.

"Sorry, are we talking about the same sixth years Gryffindors-Slytherins?" Flitwick asked, as he moved to take a seat near the window.

"I suppose so. How many do you have? They were truly incredible. Not afraid to think and to ask. Not afraid to come against me when they had. And really well behaved." Derian said enjoying every moment of their confusion.

"Well behaved. You mean Malfoy not once challenged Potter? And Parkinson never swore at Granger?" Vector said. "Not once?"

"No. Why? I really think you over exaggerated things when you told me about them." Derian snorted "Probably Severus idea to play a prank on me. And you quite succeeded, you know. I was really scarred of that class. But it proved unnecessary. Imagine we were so absorbed in our discussion that when the bell rang half of the class jumped on their feet taken by surprise. I think it must have been my only class in a long while that didn't really want to go away after we were finished." Methos said seriously. Though it was really hard to keep it up looking at their stunned expressions. And then they burst out.

"I don't believe it!" McGonagall cried.

"You do understand that you owe him twenty galleons my dear."

"Yes Fillius I am aware." Minerva said scowling. Methos staring at them, slowly understanding what this was all about. They had a poll going on. A poll that included him and the sixth years.

"You are better off than me. I owe him thirty. And a dinner." Vector said with a smile that said that she really didn't mind at all.

"Only you Amanda. Only you would fall for that bastard!" Flitwick exclaimed.

"He is not a bastard," Vector yelled in pitches Derian wasn't aware one could reach. "And I would ask you to stop calling him that!"

"Oh, right. And what exactly in his behavior doesn't make him a bastard?" McGonagall interjected. "Have you ever seen the way he treats the students?"

"Some of them really deserve it, you know. Especially if their name is Potter!"

"Now, hear, here, Amanda." McGonagall yelled back at her, protecting hers as the Gryffindor Head of House always should do. "Harry has many responsibilities an-"

"He is just a child, Minerva."

"Fillius, please. You don't have to take her part on this"

It was at that point that, as Derian lay forgotten and quite amused by the scene before him, that the professors started arguing in earnest their voices going louder every minute. Until, that is, the door to the room opened with a bang, several minutes later, causing all of them to turn towards it. The Headmaster stood there, his wand out, several students behind him looking scarred.

"What in Merlin's name is going on in here?" the headmaster asked, clearly worried, looking at the red from anger and shouting faces of his Professors.

They all begun explaining to him at once, and just after a few moments started arguing among them of who should be the one to explain what happened. Dumbledore exchanged an inquiring look with Derian, who was barely able to hold himself from laughing at the red-blotched faces of the three Professors arguing, a very confused and increasingly angry Headmaster and some very stunned students who were witnessing the whole scene.

Students forgotten, Dumbledore cast a loud bang from his wand to force them stop, as none would answer his questions, or indeed pay attention. And they did, looking this time embarrassed as they tried to compose them selves.

"Good. Now that you quit behaving like five year old children, could you please explain to me what happened? Why you felt so compelled to scream loudly enough for the students to hear you from the end of the corridor, worrying them enough to call me? Thinking that something might be wrong? In all my years here I've never seen anything like it!"

"It's all his fault." Vector pointed at Flitwick.

"No it's not!" he cried indignantly. "Albus, I did nothing..."

"Will you quit alright! I said stop behaving like children." Albus cried, obviously loosing his patience.

"In that case I suppose it his fault." McGonagall pointed the fourth Professor that was still bonelessly sprawled in the armchair that incidentally was the Headmaster's. Derian only tilted his head, a Cheshire smile playing on his lips, eyes sparkling in amusement.

"Guilty as charged." He simply said.

"And?"

"And what, Headmaster?" he asked innocently.

"What did you do to cause such uncharacteristic behavior among my Professors?"

"I told them that my first lesson was terrific. That the students were well behaved and that I am looking forward for the next lesson I will have with them." He said truthfully.

"That's it?" Albus said incredulously. "That's what made you scream to each other? Because he told you that he had a terrific day with..." suddenly his eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, your first class? What was your first class?"

"Six years Gryffindors and-"

"Slytherins. But this is not possible? The sixth years? The class with Potter and Malfoy? That sixth years?"

"I am not aware that there are others, Headmaster."

"And they behaved like gentlemen?" Dumbledore said in clear disbelief.

"And ladies, yes." Derian was looking at him, smile firm in place. Just like in the rest Professor's faces.

"Damn!" the Headmaster exclaimed.

"How much?" McGonagall asked.

"Fifty Galleons." Dumbledore replied. "I am going to kill him. That infernal man! I am so much going to kill him. He tricked me!"

"Well step in line." Vector snorted.

"But I don't believe it! Me! He tricked me!"

"You are aware that there are students hearing this marvelous conversation, right?" came the highly sarcastic voice of the Potions Master from behind Dumbledore. "Shouldn't you at least think of closing the door?"

"We could do that, but then how else would they find that their Potions Professor is cunning enough to trick even the Headmaster to believe all he says. And to owe you fifty galleons." Derian answered, sure that the students heard every word before McGonagall closed the door clearly irritated at him.

"So, I suppose I won?" Snape said calmly. "They behaved?"

"Of course." Derian rolled his eyes. As if they would have any other choice with him as a Teacher.

"Nice. That will be twenty from Minerva. Twenty five from Fillius. Thirty from Amanda, and a dinner." He added, as he had taken out a small black leathered bound book and scribbled. "Ten from Rose, thirty five from Hooch, I have to give twenty to Trelawney, I must stop making deals with her, and oh Hagrid! Another ten from him. Don't forget the fifty from Albus, that's, let me think..."

"160 galleons." Derian informed him smirking. "Of which you are going to give me the 90."

"90? I don't remember agreeing in anything like this." Snape said surprised.

"I didn't know there was a poll, now, did I? And seeing as I just helped you get all that rich, shouldn't I get something as well?"

"Fine, but 90? It's not even the half!" Snape protested.

"Well, I don't get a dinner with a charming Witch as you do!" Derian exclaimed.

"If you put it this way." Snape shrugged and turned to the rest of the Professors who were quite surprised that he had relented so fast. "If you don't mind paying up, please?"

"I should kill you!" Dumbledore told him as he took out a pouch. He counted fifty galleons and gave them to Severus.

"Get in line!" Snape shrugged. He soon gathered the money and gave the 90 galleons to Derian. "It seems I have to find Sibyl to pay her. If you will excuse me." He smoothly left the room in research of the seer.

"Well. Now that he is off." McGonagall said with a slight sneer – she hated to loose to Snape – "Do tell us, how did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Look young man", Vector raised her voice "I just lost thirty galleons and I can't say I am very fond of you at the moment, seeing you are the cause of it." The rest of the teachers nodded in agreement.

"Oh, but you should thank me, Amanda." Derian said amused that she would call him a young man, when she herself couldn't be more than ten years older by appearance. Aside the fact that he was some millennia older than she was in reality. "If not for me you wouldn't have a got yourself a dinner with the _tall dark broody and just a bit evil Potions Professor._" He mock-mimicked her from last night, causing Flitwick to snort.

"Shut up, Fillius!" Vector yelled and looked at Derian ferociously. "And you, don't you dare to run around spreading such things!"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Amanda." he replied honestly. "Still. I could help you if you want." He offered, knowing the witch would think about it. "Well, it is time for me to go."

"Oh, no you don't!" Dumbledore said. "You won't side step me as easily."

"I never meant to." Derian said groaning.

"Right."

"Headmaster, sarcasm is unbecoming of you."

"Derian!"

"Ok, ok. I relent. You want to know how I managed to keep them in line right?" he asked noticing their eager glances. "Easily. I gave them something to ponder upon. Something greater than their petty fights among them. Something concerning every each of them."

"And that would be what?"

"We had a great talk on White and Dark Magic. On the none-existing lines between them. I told them I would teach them the Dark Arts, and had them think what actually are the dark arts." If the students had been surprised with his words, it was nothing in front of what the rest of the Professors felt. To say it mildly they were stunned.

"You are not allowed to teach the Dark Arts in this school."

"Yes, Headmaster. I believe that this was exactly what miss Granger told me." Said Derian.

"Well, at least one of them is wise enough." McGonagall said pleased. "And what did you answered her?"

"I asked her to tell me what the Dark Arts are. And to tell me one spell that didn't belong in that category."

"And?"

"And she realized I was right." Then before anyone had a chance to interrogate him further he turned to the Headmaster and told him what had been on his mind since before his first class. "I was wondering, Headmaster, if we could slightly rearrange my classes.

"Rearrange them?" McGonagall interrupted. "The whole program is set! You think it's easy to change hour slots easily?"

"No, but I do believe that this school functions according to what is best for the students." Derian commented.

"And what exactly are you proposing, Derian?"

"Well, Headmaster, as good as today's lesson was, I don't want a Slytherin-Gryffindor group."

"Ha! I knew it!" Flitwick squeaked. "You did know about the poll. You had as all..."

"No." Derian rolled his eyes, knowing very well where this was going. "I just think it would be better if there were students from all four hours in each slot. It'll be nicer to have them all interchanging ideas, maybe working with or against each other." He added looking over the Headmaster's shoulder, where Snape appeared.

"Are you sure?" Dumbledore asked as stunned as the rest of the Professors, as Derian walked towards Snape. They usually had problems with people from two houses joined in a class. Put all four Houses together and it would be chaos!

"Most certainly. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to borrow Severus for the rest of the day." His hand might have clasped Snape's arm but the man didn't move at all as he said that.

"What makes you think that I am inclined to join you where ever and for whatever you want?" Snape replied amused at his former teacher's all-business attitude.

"Well, Severus. I need to go to err...Diagon Alley. And you will accompany me, for I've no idea how to go there."

"You don't?"

"No, Fillius. You see, I haven't been there for rather long years now. I don't quite remember how to enter it."

"What would you possibly want from there?" asked Snape as he rolled his eyes and turned to follow Derian outside.

"Oh, well. A quick visit to Olivander's?" Derian asked shrugging as he opened the door.

"Olivander's? Why what's wrong with your wand?"

The door closed behind the two men at that moment, so the rest of the staff couldn't hear the answer Derian gave to the  
Potion Master. However, they did hear Snape's reply. In fact, the whole school probably heard him roaring.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU LOST YOUR WAND!?!"

The minutes of stunned silence ended when Professor Vector started chuckling. Very soon the other three Professors in the room followed her, until they were wiping tears from their eyes.

"My, my" McGonagall said as she leaned in her chair. "I never thought that there would be a man that could infuriate Severus more easily than you do, Albus." Or surprise them all so many times in such a short time, she added to herself.

"Yes. I do believe it is quite an accomplishment." The Headmaster took the recently vacated black armchair to sit down.

"I wonder how long they've known each other." Flitwick mused. "He does seem overly relaxed around the man. And you must admit that Severus rarely does favours to anyone. He even gave him 90 galleons!"

"Yes. I don't believe I've heard him speaking of Derian before he proposed we should hand him the job." Vector said thinking. "You think Derian might have something to do with You-Know-Who?"

"I do not think so." Dumbledore told them as they all turned to look at him. It had been a thought that was troubling him those few weeks. "He is only 25, after all. Way too young to have had anything to do with Voldemort. And they do seem to know each other pretty well, so he can't be a new recruit."

"But, what if his parents were? I mean just look at him name! Derian Deofol. That used to be a Dark Lord's name, and he did say that it came down the family."

"Yes, Minerva. I must say that this is bothersome, but we don't have all information we need to draw a conclusion here."

"And what about his wand?" Fillius squealed after a moment of silence. "I mean you don't think he did actually loose it, do you? A wizard loosing his wand...that is unheard of!"

"Well, he did live like a muggle all these years." Vector theorized. "Maybe he just misplaced it."

"And how come Severus knows him, if he lived as a muggle?" Fillius asked still disbelieving. "He is not the man to be going out in the muggle world all that much."

"Ah, you are wrong there, Fillius. The boy always enjoyed a walk in the muggle London." Dumbledore smiled thinking of all these brief minutes Snape and he went out to London. "It is safer for him there than here, I am afraid." He sobered at the thought.

"It was his choice, Albus." Minerva said gently to him. She had learned to like the dark wizard with all of his peculiarities, but she still couldn't forgive that one mistake he had made as a young man. Maybe because she wasn't yet ready to forgive herself either.

"Yes, I know." He sighed. "What I don't know, though, and am not sure if I want to find out, is what these two are up to." After all, he mused seeing the clouded faces of his professors Snape wasn't known for obeying orders, or revealing his plans, unless that was part of his plan. And he was certain that his Potions Master was up to something. He never would have thought of Derian otherwise.

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_I thought I'd go with something a bit lighter than the previous chapter. Thanks to you people that reviewed and you know who you are. I am sorry to inform you that there might be a slight delay for the next chapter. Seems university work caught up with me and I am a bit struggling at the moment. _

_So until next time..._


	8. Tuesday 2nd, Diagon Alley

_

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Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately. One can't have all one wishes in her/his life. _

_Kyer, thank you for the review. I went over the story and tried to correct anything I found amiss. English is not my mother language and sometimes I do make mistakes. All too often I'm afraid. Not having the books helps me blundering magical terms that spelling checker anyway signifies as wrong. As for grammar...err...yes. Anyone might want to beta this story? Otherwise I am afraid it will continue having stupid mistakes that I won't see simply because it won't have cross my mind that they are mistakes. Well. That's all folks. Once again, Kyer, thank you. I hope I corrected most mistakes. _

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**Monday 4th, September**

**Diagon Alley**

"I still can't believe it!" Snape muttered angrily as he tapped the bricks to enter the Diagon Alley. Behind him Derian watched around as if he was a little kid offered many, many presents all at once. He didn't know what to pock first. "I mean, ok, you can do magic without your wand, but...loose it? And come to Hogwarts to teach without one? That's as close to suicide as you can get."

"Severus, I do understand it doesn't happen very often for a wizard to loose his wand, but I am not one. When you get as old as I am you'll understand. And besides, you should know I don't have a wand. I never waved one around twenty years ago." He said, his hands closing some very interesting artefacts.

"Will you stop it?" Snape snapped his hand, just as he was about to grasp a beautiful wooden carved horse that had the tendency to transform into a real one follow you around. "Honestly, you are worse than the first years!"

"Thank you!" Derian said pleased with himself. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"It wasn't." Snape grumbled. Silently they woke up towards the Ollivander's, Derian looking around fascinated and Snape snapping at him every other minute to hurry up. "Really, Derian, it's like you've never been here before!" he exclaimed at some point after having to explain one more thing.

"Well, considering there was no Alley back when I last came here, I suppose you'd be right in your estimate." Derian chuckled.

"Exactly how old are you, if you don't mind me asking." Snape stop in mid step forcing Derian to step back to avoid collision with the Potion's Master. Unfortunately he didn't avoid colliding with the woman that walked right behind him.

"Will, you watch it, you moron!" Derian cringed as he helped the lady to get up.

"I am terribly sorry, Mrs. You see I..."

"No need. I am sure that you are just incompetent with..."

"Now, now Mrs Nott, this surely is not the way to speak to another wizard, is it?" Snape appeared from behind Derian who was trying to deal with the angry looking witch that waved a wand literally in front of his nose.

"S...Snape!" the woman stuttered, her frowning in surprise. "Aren't you supposed to be in Hogwarts? Working?"

"Severus was kind enough to accompany me here for some business, Mrs Nott." Derian said, quite relived that he wasn't standing in front of a wand any more.

"You what?" Mrs Nott did a very good impression of a fish, the two professors thought.

"Are you deaf as well, besides rude?" Snape sneered at her. He knew her very well. She was an old schoolmate of his. Some years older. And a Death Eater at the time. With a grudge, seeing that her husband was still in Azkaban.

"Called the pot the kettle." She snorted. Then flashed. "Sorry, Severus. I did not mean that."

"Of course not." Snape said in a tone that bellied he believed not a word of her apology. But she had to. After all he did teach her child, and was her superior in the organisation. "So what are _you _doing here? I would have thought that it would be rather dangerous for you to be around."

"Nonsense." Mrs Nott looked carefully towards Derian, who seemed to be looking the animals in the pet shop clearly wishing to get one. Then she turned quizzical eyes towards Snape. He raised his eyebrows challenging her to say anything, which she didn't. It was well known among the ranks that what Snape did in his own time, was no ones business. He only answered to the Dark Lord. "You known what our esteem Ministry believes about _him_ and who gets to be one of his." Her lips curled in a self satisfied smile, sarcasm dripping from every word she uttered.

"True." Snape agreed, his face showing nothing as usual. Those morons in the Ministry thought the Death Eaters were an archaic form of society, where men ruled and no women became accepted, unless to serve. How blinded they were. That had allowed them to use more and more scorned women to take part into their attacks, seeing as they were never among the suspects.

"Tell me, Severus. How is my son doing?" she asked after a minute. Snape was of a mind not to answer her but then he saw the worry and the love she had for her boy.

"He is as good as he can, under the circumstances. I believe that he started bonding with young Mr. Malfoy after the events of last summer." He rubbed his eyes. "I don't know what else to tell you Attinia (_sea anemone in Italian_). He is a good student, not as good as you were, but far better than your Husband. And he is working hard."

"Do watch over him. I know that this is too much to ask, but..."

"Don't worry Attinia. I watch over all of my Slytherins." Snape reassured her. "As always."

"Thank you, sir." Her face was lighted for a moment as a sparse - those last few months – smile crawled into her face. Then it was gone as soon as it appeared, when Derian turned towards them, a shadow dimming his eyes.

"You know, Severus. I thought maybe we ought to go to Gringotts first. I'll have to pick up more money if I am to buy a wand."

"Why would you need to get a wand?" Mrs Nott couldn't help but ask, as Snape rolled his eyes.

"Derian, this is Mrs. Attinia Nott, Attinia this is Professor Derian Deofol."

"Nice to meet you, Mrs. Nott." Derian smiled as he kissed her hand with a slight bow.

"You too, Professor. I hope you can forgive me for my earlier outburst. It's just the day I'm afraid."

"Not to worry. It was all his fault anyway." He pointed at Snape with a smile. To her great surprise Snape just shrugged. Mrs. Nott had never seen Snape shrug when accused of anything. He rarely said anything – true – but he usually stared the offensive man – or woman – until the other was shaking in fear. Pretty much like what he had done to her some minutes before.

"So what do you teach in Hogwarts, Professor?" she asked before Snape could catch her thinking that he behaved strangely. "I don't believe my son mentioned you before."

"I haven't had the pleasure of teaching him yet, Mrs. I am the new Ethics of Magic Professor."

"Whatever. Attinia we have to get going. It was a pleasure, I'm sure."

"Yes. Of course." She said as she watched them walking away from her. "What happened to your old wand, Professor?" she asked again, unable not to be curious about it. A wizard visited Ollivander's only if he or she broke the wand in an accident. A big accident.

"I misplaced it." Derian turned back his head to tell her, just as Snape lowered his own in surrender. Mrs. Nott remained still for a moment before exclaiming quite loudly:

"YOU LOST YOUR WAND? HOW CAN YOU LOOSE YOUR WAND?"

"I didn't know you had a Gringotts' account, Michael."

"Derian."

"What? Oh yes. Sorry." Snape grimaced for slipping like this.

"And you were doing so well." Derian sighed theatrically.

"It won't happen again." Snape said with a finality that forced Derian to believe him.

They both knew how dangerous it would be if people overheard that name. Not because any one knew it but because their whole game might go up. Snape had to admit that Michael – Derian – had made things far easier for him. He looked nothing like his teacher did and he behaved differently as well. More relaxed. No. No relaxed wasn't the right word. The man seemed always to be relaxed. He seemed more open, less secretive. He had to repress his urge to snort. Yes, his teacher talked more, interacted with people far more than the last time he had been with him, but he didn't reveal anything about himself. Hiding behind his words, his lies.

He had to wonder for how long he had been in this game of hide and seek with the truth. The man had become a master in the art of elusiveness. He couldn't even call it manipulation, for rarely anyone realised the man was being anything else than honest with them. And he had to stop thinking him as his teacher.

"So?" he asked when Derian didn't come forward with an answer.

"So what?"

"So when did you get an account in our bank?"

"Oh, it feels like I have it for ever. Mind you, I rarely come here, or check it, but it is good to know that you can move around this world comfortably as well. It is the perfect place to hide from the normal – muggle – world."

They stepped in the bank and Derian took the lead for the first time in their little walk in the wizarding world. The Bank was huge, made out of marble, with columns on either side of the hallway reminding one more of an ancient Roman or Greek temple, rather than a bank. Which did make sense in a strange kind of way. After all modern people – of about a thousand years – tended to worship money as the ancients did Gods.

"How can I help you?" the Goblin seated behind the table didn't even deigned to raise his head to look at his new customers.

"Yes, hi. I need access to my vault." Derian said, mindless of this behaviour. After all it was well known that the Goblins didn't exactly nourish friendly feeling for humans. Witches and wizards in particular.

"You have your key?" the goblin extended his left hand, still scribbling on a piece of parchment with his other.

"No. My vault doesn't open with a key. It's 134."

"Excuse me?" both the Goblin and Snape snapped their heads towards him. The Goblin narrowed his eyes for a moment as if trying to see something that he hadn't thought it was there a moment a go, and then his eyes went wide. He opened and closed his mouth a few times without a word uttered, before he composed him self, amusing Derian to no end.

"Of course, sir." The Goblin said with a wavering voice. "If sirs will follow me, I will lead the way."

"I'll wait." Snape buried his curiosity, knowing very well that there might be things in his vault that Derian wouldn't want him to see.

"Don't be silly." Derian smiled, his eyes sparkling in amusement. "I wouldn't let you here all alone dying out of curiosity. Who do you think I am?"

"Someone who knows me better than it is wise." Snape muttered even as his lips turned into a smirk of satisfaction. "Or safe for that matter."

"Yes, well. No one ever clamed that I am wise. Least of all me." He said as they followed the Goblin towards a great door that Snape never remembered seeing before.

"May I say, sir, that it has been a long time since the vault was asked for. We didn't know what to assume."

"As you can see, you needn't have worried." Derian replied seriously. "I trust no one will learn of this visit, either."

"Of course not." the Goblin bowed slightly.

"Excellent. If you don't mind I can find my way from here, thank you." Derian remained immobile till the Goblin left them alone – after executing another little bow.

"This was strange." Commented Snape. "I take it that Goblins are among the creatures that know what we are?"

"Yes. You are quite right." The older immortal said as he moved along the hallway, seemingly looking for something.

"So how will you open your Vault if you don't have the key?"

"I am the Key."

"Your quickening?" Snape asked after a few seconds of thought, as he watched Derian moving further down.

"Yes." He stopped suddenly as he came before a nondescript part of the stone wall. "Here we are." He muttered as he brought forth his hand and touched the stone. In a second his hand was aflame with blue lightening that seemed to be absorbed by the wall. Silently the wall became as transparent as veil and Derian stepped through it in the waiting darkness.

Snape remained outside not quite knowing what to do when his teacher voice called him from beyond the veil.

"Well, are you coming any time this century?"

"You needn't sound so amused." Snape snarled as he stepped through the strange doorway with a little bit of trepidation. This whole thing felt wrong, somehow. Or maybe familiar in a way that it shouldn't.

"You are amusing me." Derian shrugged as he felt Snape next to him.

"A little light should be welcome, you know."

"In a moment." Derian smiled picturing the sneer on the face of his student.

He knew he was worried, as he had no control over the situation and he always turned rather nasty and sarcastic to hide the fact that he might actually be afraid of something. Derian moved on, allowing Snape to remain were he was, in order to enter the main room where one could light a torch or indeed have some light. He had always been paranoid, at least as long as he could remember, and he had constructed a nice little trap in his vault. Just in case it was broken into. Anyone trying to light his or his wand, or produce light in any way, while still in the narrow hallway that communed his vault with the entrance door, would instantaneously burn into flames.

That is if someone managed to get into his vault, which should be impossible since it was keyed to his quickening. But one couldn't be safe enough. What if he was somehow forced to open his vault for someone to enter it? Snape – he knew – didn't do any magic because he trusted him to have a trick in his sleeve. After all the man had learned to think just as he had.

"Finally." Snape muttered as Derian lit the torches around the main room of his vault. "Er...Derian?" Severus voice was uncertain as he turned around looking at the room. "Your vault seems to be empty." Derian snorted. Talk about stating the obvious. Yes his vault seemed to be empty. And in fact it was. But it still contained more things than one would be capable of storing to a single vault.

"Of course it is." Derian's lips formed that little amused smile that one could easily think it was a smirk. "But it suits my needs perfectly. How much for a wand these days?"

"I don't know. Eleven galleons? Eight? Something like that."

"Really? It used to be a small fortune some years ago." Derian commented. "Right. Then I suppose I need 11 galleons for the wand and lets have about 100 for the future." His words weren't over as two sacks of what Snape thought probably were the requested money, appeared from thin air in front of Derian, who calmly took them.

"It's a requirement room!" Snape said amazed.

"A what?" Derian frowned perplexed as he wondered what else he night need from his vault.

"A Requirement room. We have one in Hogwarts as well." He explained. "You can ask from something and it will provide it."

"Oh. Yes it works pretty much like this. Err...let's see. I want a list with all the books I own as well, please." He knew he didn't have to be polite, after all it was his magic that had made this room and answered to his requests, but it always amused him to think that there were others in here, unseen, unnoticed and enjoyed requesting things, rather than claiming them. At least these years.

"Why don't you ask for a Wand as well?" Snape asked as he moved closer to peek the books in the list that had appeared in Derian's hands. The parchment fell on endless rolls to the grounds.

"I can't have something from this room that I haven't put in." Derian reasoned. "You want to read any of these books?"

"No, I am not that fond of readying books you have the only surviving copies of." Snape rolled his eyes at the pointless question.

"Should have known. Fine. I'll get the list with me. You can study it and ask me. I'll make sure you get a copy of the book." Derian shrunk the parchment and it too disappeared somewhere in the folds of his robe.

"We should go." Snape said looking at his watch wrist. "You might be able to afford spending your time how ever you want, by I need to start brewing Lupin's potion."

"You brew a potion for the Werewolf?" Derian said interested.

"Yes. Wolfsbane potion. Keeps him under control when he transf...wait. How did you know that Lupin is a werewolf?" Snape narrowed his eyes.

"I'll tell you in the way to Ollivander's. Now why don't you go out, and I'll be with you in a sec." Derian dismissed him while looking something in the room.

Snape was of a mind to comment who ridiculous he looked like, searching for something in a room that was empty, but he wasn't about to question his teacher. It was obvious the man wanted something and didn't want him to know what. With a sigh he walked out of the vault, to the damn corridor to wait. Maybe that way they would be able to finish in a reasonable time.

Not a minute had passed when Derian came out of the room, a smile on his face the likes of which Snape had very rarely seen adorning the older immortal. What ever it was he was looking for it must have been special, he thought as he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, let's get going." Derian said, schooling his face into one more like himself. "Or we will be late. And I do have work to do, you know."

"Really?" Snape faked surprise, letting pass the fact that the man wasn't going to tell him what he had found. "And here I thought that you meant to spent the afternoon drinking bear in a pub somewhere."

"How did you know?" Derian smiled when Snape stopped suddenly. At least this time he walked next to the man and not behind him. "I was joking." Snape just narrowed his eyes even more, clearly not believing him. "Honestly." He rolled his eyes and moved towards the main hall of the Wizarding bank.

Once out side they turned rightwards to where the small store with the wands was.

"So, about Lupin..."

"What about...oh yes. As you grow older, and therefore more powerful, you'll notice that people feel differently to you. Mortals have this scent of death around them, especially muggles, while wizards and witches tend to feel more, I don't know, airy. It happens with all the species. So Lupin feels like the moon and blood. It's not difficult to make the connection." Derian explained, having turned on his teacher mode.

"I never noticed that." Snape frowned.

"Yes. The important words were _older_ and _more powerful._" Derian snorted.

"I see." Snape was lost in his thoughts for the rest of their sort walk down the road to Ollivander's.

A small bell rang as they pushed the door of the store and walked inside. It was dark, smelt of closed air and wood and had shelves upon shelves with boxes that contained the most important of accessories to a wizard.

"Those are a lot of wands." Derian said amazed just before he jumped at the voice that was heard from the back of the store.

"Just a moment. I'll be right with you. Don't touch anything!" which was just as good that the warning came, since Derian's hand was already very close to a wand left on the bench. He snapped it back quickly under an amused chuckle from Snape.

"Glad you find me amusing." Derian muttered.

"Well, you always are amused with me. It feels good taking back some of my blood." Snape shrugged and proceeded lowering him self to a comfy looking couch to wait.

"Here I am. Sorry to keep you waiting but not many visit my store after the term begins." A medium height old man, with grey hair flying all over and round glasses strode from a door behind the bench. "You are not students." He said abruptly the moment he saw them.

"How very acute of you." Snape sneered.

"Professor Snape." Ollivander said as he looked the man. "Ebon, 10 inches long, occumy and augurey feathers, a most unusual combination." That seemed to be all the man needed to know about the wizard in front of him. "There are very few wands made with such combination. Very, very difficult. Good for Dark Magic and defence. I trust it has served you well?"

"Excellently."

Snape inclined his head, in his mind remembering that day he bought his wand. It had been an exhausting process, where he had tried more than 50 wands, all working but none satisfyingly enough. Ollivander had been very perplexed and had tried to find his most unusual wand combination. His wand was the tenth of these unusual combinations he had tried. It was an experience he didn't want to have again, yet something told him that history would repeat herself today. Maybe he wouldn't have the leading part but Derian most certainly would.

"And who would you be?" Ollivander narrowed his eyes as he inspected Derian. "I haven't seen you before. I would know. I remember all that buy one of my family's creations."

"No. You wouldn't know me. I am not from around here. Deofol Derian is the name, by the way." Derian extended his hand that Ollivander took hesitantly.

"Derian Deofol was Welsh. And he didn't have a family." The wizard said disbelievingly.

"He was Welsh. And he did have a family. You could say I am the last of them." Derian smiled. "I lived among the muggles for many years. And travelled a lot."

"I see. So what can I do for you mister Deofol?"

"Professor Derian, if you don't mind." Derian said pleasantly. "And I though it'd be obvious. I need a wand."

"A wand." Ollivander repeated. "You came here for a wand."

"Yes. We are passed this I hope."

"I can't issue a new wand to someone unless I have their old one. Ministry regulations."

"Oh. Then we have a problem. I don't have my old wand."

Ollivander's eyes opened wide at his words, just as Snape rolled his. Here we go again, he thought.

"You don't have a wand?"

"No. I lost it. And I know you might find this very disbelieving, but yes, there are wizards that loose their wands, and I am one of those." Derian said before the man had the chance to interrupt him. "And if you dare say How is it possible that I lost my wand, you had better stop there. I did. End of story."

"I take it you said that you lost your wand to more that one person." Ollivander said after a moment of silence.

"You are quite right. And honestly I don't care for the same respond at the moment."

"Well. Since you lost your wand, an idea how?"

"No. I hadn't used in for a score of years, I'm afraid. I'm not even sure when I might have lost it."

"That is interesting. What do you teach?"

"Ethics of Magic."

"You see, normally you would need to inform the Ministry that you lost your wand, and they would look into it. But seeing as you never did buy a wand from here and that you are a Professor at Hogwarts, I believe we can skip all that."

"Oh, good. I'd never would have bothered otherwise." Derian muttered.

"Lets see. What are you good at?" Ollivander asked as he tapped a measure with his wand. Immediately it sprang to life and begun measuring Derian, who found it all very amusing.

"Good at? Everything, I believe." He would be after thousands of years of practice.

"Not very modest, are we Professor?" Ollivander smirked.

"I just know me."

"Ok. What comes easier, then."

"All kind of charms. Illusion in particular, and Dark ones. Potions and Arithmancy as well."

"Only those?" Snape said sarcastically.

"Really Severus." Derian rolled his eyes. "I happen to know that you don't have any problems with magic either. What would you say your strong point is?"

"Potions." The younger man answered. "And Dark Arts. And Transfiguration. And..."

"Let me stop you there. I think I made my point." Derian smiled at him. They were not wizards – as his student kept forgetting. They were Mages. And Mages had the uncanny ability to be able to use any kind of magic they wanted effortlessly.

"Ok. Lets try this. Oak. 12 inches. Heart string. Very good for charms...." Ollivander brought him the wand to try. The result was reasonable, but it didn't feel right. Neither with the next wand, cypress and phoenix feather 10 inches, or any of the many wands Derian tried for the next half an hour or so.

"If you want my opinion..." Snape said smirking from his armchair.

"What?" Derian snapped. He was beginning to get increasingly angrier. If he had known that it would be so difficult to find a wand he wouldn't have bothered. All of them at best limited his magic, at worst caused mini explosions.

"Try to look for wands with unusual combinations. Not unlike mine." Snape said to Ollivander, not paying attention to Derian. Ollivander narrowed his eyes at the Potions Master but silently disappeared in the back of the room to get some of the more weird wands his family had made, or they had gathered through the centuries they owned the shop.

"Try this. 8 inches, cedar, hair of a banshee." Derian winced as he took hold of the elegant wand. "well, go on. Give it a wave." Derian did just this causing a shrieking noise to spread through the room like a wave destroying everything in its pass.

"Most certainly not that one." Snape said as he rose from the floor he had found cover from the breaking glass.

"I would say so." Ollivander snatched the wand from an equally baffled Derian as they looked at the damage in the store.

"Err...I am so sorry for the damage. I will pay for it." Derian stammered.

"Nothing that doesn't happen in a day's work." Ollivander dismissed him. "Though I have to admit I have never seen such powerful a result. It looks like your magic doesn't want to be harnessed."

"You could say that again."

"What about this one?" the wand was offered to him wasn't straight and neither very long. "It's 9 inches. Made of dark rose wood. Has a veela hair."

Derian took hold of it and almost hesitantly muttered an easy spell. Nothing happened. He frowned and tried again with the same results. Ollivander looked at him baffled.

"What king of a wand did you have?" he asked as he snatched the rose and vela wand back.

"I don't remember exactly. It was passed down the family. I think Slytherin was rumoured to have made it." Derian admitted. It had been a thousand years ago. He really couldn't remember if he had left the wand in Hogwarts or taken it with him, much less what it was made of.

"You lost a wand made by Salazar Slytherin?" Snape said incredulously.

"Slytherin made wands?" Ollivander asked.

"Hey, I don't know. That is the myth." Derian lied easily. The two wizards looked at him not really believing his words.

"You know, I might have something that will fit you after all." Ollivander said after a few moments thought. "It was some years after Slytherin died. One of his daughters brought a wand to one of my ancestors. In fact I wonder why I didn't think of it earlier..." with those words he disappeared again in the back of his room.

"What do you think he has thought of?" Snape asked.

"Beats me." Derian shrugged. "I think I had better repair all this damage." He sighed. "We can tell you did it." Added Derian when he saw that Snape was about to protest.

Derian closed his eyes, thinking the room as it had been before he had demolished it. He felt the energy flow form him as it run through the room repairing the damage. By the time he had opened his eyes the room was exactly as it had been before.

By the time he opened his eyes Ollivander had been ready to wander through the door holding a long silver box underneath his arm.

"You didn't use a wand." He whispered as he looked the repaired room. None of the wizards had seen him, still as he was in the back room. But he had seen everything. He looked at the sliver box and then at the wizard that stood in the middle of his shop. A smile threatened to lit his face as he thought of the stories that were told in his family, concerning the particular wand he held. He had never believed them, but maybe, just maybe they would come out to be true.

After all how many wizards did one know who fit in the description of the stories?

'_Give the wand to him that lost a wand._

_The wand that was lost is the one in the box. _

_The man is the one who needs no wand.' _

It had never made any sense to him, those three lines but now...

"Try this one." He approached him, his face schooled into revealing none of his thoughts. He opened the silver box to reveal a long black wand lying on emerald velvet linen. "Yew, poisonous, 9 inches the yew, an additional 3½ inches the grip made of obsidian. Contains the sole hair of a Thestral, female. Myth has it to be made by Slytherin Salazar and the Thestral giving the hair is thought to be Epona, the first of the species."

Derian slowly took hold of the wand. It felt familiar. Yes...how could he have forgotten? He had been the one to ask for the hair from Epona. He had been the one yielding the wand all those years ago. He was the only one this wand would work for. A unique combination. His wand.

"I've never heard of wands containing Thestral hair." Snape commented as he watched in interest his teacher taking the wand, the emotions barely hidden under his usual mask.

"There never were wands made of Thestral hair." Ollivander agreed.

"Salazar had this made under request." Derian replied as he caressed the wood, his fingers feeling the carving on the grip of the wand. He flicked his wrist slightly and sparks came out of the wand. In complete control he cast several spells each one more powerful that the previous. "I do believe I found my wand." He smiled satisfied.

"And about bloody time too."

Snape rose from the couch, his eyes never leaving that peculiar looking wand. He knew that there was more history in all this, than Derian was allowing. Snape, he was a patient man, had to be to lead his life, but even his patience had its limits. And Derian was so good in breaking them. He might have to start looking into his old teacher's life. He didn't know as yet how he'd do it, but...he already had withstood the temptation for 20 years. It didn't seem he would hold for any more time. Especially with Derian going about his life the way he did.

* * *

_Sorry for the delay, people, but University is very demanding. I am not sure when the next update will be. Thought I think it is safe to say in next chapter Voldemort will appear. We'll see._

_Thank you for your wonderful reviews. If not for them I wouldn't be continuing the story._


	9. Friday 5th, Snape Manor

_**Disclaimer: **I do not owe Harry Potter or the Highlander. If you don't know who created these universes…what can I say?_

_I should say that this didn't come out as I expected it would. But, then again, would anyone expect Lord Voldemort or Severus Snape not to do what they wish? Tell me what you think, because honestly I am not too sure about this chapter. I could re-do it. Maybe. And I am sad to say that no one has yet offered to be my beta for this story, so there probably are mistakes in the text I missed, despite readying through it, like, a hundred times. In other words, if anyone would like to offer to be my beta, the position is still open._

_fffffffff_

**_Friday 8th September _**

_**Snape Manor**_

"You are late."

"Oh, shut up, Bella. You try to leave the school without anyone seeing you, walk all the way to the apparition barrier and disapparate here in less than twenty minutes and then accuse me of lateness. I am not fortunate enough to live next to the Dark Lord. Not to mention in _my_ house, where all you need is ready and paid for! By _me_!"

Ah, he is here. Finally.

I can't help it. I smile, in the last moments making it look like a smirk. Not that evil a look for a Dark Lord, but then again the six people – four at the moment, the other two approaching – in the room know me well enough not to be necessary for me to pretend.

Severus walks in, head high, straight back, imposing figure, his movements as smooth as a great predator cat. With his fixation with black colours I suppose it's not crazy that he always reminded me of a black, silk panther. He lacks the yellow eyes, of course, but, well…it's not really important. Bella is right behind him, marching stride for stride, itself an impressing accomplishment, frowning behind him displeased.

As always he is the last to come. Lately he is the first to leave as well. Such a pity. His mind, his brilliance is lost to the kinds of Dumbledores and Fudges. Hmm. I shouldn't be so unjust. Everything is lost to Fudge.

"My Lord." His voice is smooth, low, as he takes his seat. It feels like someone is breathing down your neck, just before you end up with it twisted. Dead. He didn't always have such a lovingly threatening voice. He has gone a long way, my boy, since the unfortunate day of my…err…departure from the world of the solidly living.

"Severus. I was beginning to despair we wouldn't see you." I am joking and he knows. The others are quite at a loss, as always, when I speak with Severus. The others can't boast that the Dark Lord used to hold them when they were only a few months old. I taught Severus almost everything he knows. I spent as much time with him when he was just a chid, and then a young adult, as any parent would.

"My, Lord. I always try to attain at the meetings. I believe I always have." If I was still capable of the feeling called love, I suppose I would love him.

"You didn't attend the first one." That foolish creature Wormtail says from my right.

I am seriously beginning to regret my choice of bringing him in the inner circle of my followers. He is incredibly annoying. His only assets are the excellent coffee that he brews and the sad fact that he alone among the rest of my followers helped me into gaining a new body. Of course he was the main reason I lost it, in the first place. Hadn't it been for the gift of his hand – really a finger would have been as effective – I would have ousted him the moment I came back.

"Must we really go through this again?" dear Narcissa asks as the rest of the inner circle groan at his words. True. They were a bit baffled, some of them, when the man they thought was the deserter, the betrayer, was welcomed back to the fold, no punishment given. They should know better than to judge me.

"Most certainly not." I agree with her and the matter is closed, with Wormtail scowling at my expressionless precious spy. "Severus, if you finished gawking...?" I know he is just checking to see the effect his potions have on me, as a true scientist would. Huh. I called a wizard a scientist! That's something you don't hear every day, but he is so professional, so serious in what he is doing that the comparison has a ring of truth. After all I always found potions quite like muggle chemistry. Which I used to have to remind my self never to say aloud around Severus. He has such a way of words. Especially insulting ones. And he never liked the comparison between chemistry and potions, neither the people that made it. But it was fun to watch said reactions and I was never truly fond of the art. Probably because I was only passable at it.

Severus is one of the best Potions Masters in United Kingdom. Probably in the world as well. I know he is one of the youngest if not the youngest to ever gain the degree.

"Of course, my Lord." I love the slight bow of his head that conveys so much respect and…dare I say…love? Far more than the most extravagant of servitude demonstratives I have received over the years.

"Good. Do I pass?" he looks at me annoyed. He actually has the nerve to look at me annoyed and I am only amused?

"My _Lord, _you've been taking my Potions. That is the only indication you need." Ah! So I do pass the test. Well, I do have hair, grey but hair, and I have a solid nose, and I do not look like a corpse any more. And no after effects from so many restorative skin potions either. I guess that qualifies as a pass. Severus is still quite unsettled, feeling that I somehow insulted him.

I suppose some things never change. He never liked to be mocked. Least of all after Hogwarts. Gods. How I wish he had never attended that darn school. It destroyed him. I had send him there so self confident. Proud. He was returned a shell. Angry, petty. Still brilliant, but almost useless in his self depression. Damn his mother anyway for insisting her children would go there. To the school she had attended. To her father's school. I suppose it is reasonable after a fashion. Her whole family attended said school. Beautiful, powerful, dark Selene Snape. So frail. She didn't survive the birth of her only child. I miss her still. I don't think anyone who knew her isn't still missing her.

"My Lord?" Engel Dolohov looks at me with eyes full of understanding. She went to school, Hogwarts, along with me and Selene and so many others of our group. In fact I think she was in the same year and House as Selene. Ravenclaw, if my memory doesn't deceive me. I must have that look, again. The one she claims I don whenever my mind travels back to those years. To Selene.

"Yes, Engel. Thank you."

Her name means angel. It's not far from the truth. I've lost count of how many times I lost my self in the calmness that is her voice. Such a pretty sound. Where Severus' is dark, hers is light. Where his is threatening, unnerving, hers is paradise. Comforting. When Severus' is frightening, hers is down right terrifying. Eyes…I had never given much thought to all those fanciful descriptions in romance books of eyes that are as clear as water. As warm as anything. I never understood it. For me eyes were either green or blue or brown. So ok, I have red ones, but that is not that common or considered healthy.

But her eyes…her eyes are a pale blue, the kind of which is found in the sky only in the most brilliant of days. Truthful and powerful, they are nothing like that fool Dumbledore's eyes. It is really irritating to talk to a man that in all purposes mocks you with this unending twinkling that he thinks it makes him wise. Some one should tell him that wisdom doesn't come with twinkling eyes. Not even madness. And I should know about madness.

"Right. We should start." I say and look at Macnair. He is new as well in the inner circle. Rookwood used to have this seat. Next to Malfoy, who now spends his time in Azkaban. I really should do something about that. Asides his many faults – particularly the endless hunger for power that he has – Lucius Malfoy is very, very useful. And not just because he holds half the wizarding world in his pocket.

"Nothing much to report, my Lord." Since Rookwood was found out, damn Karkaroff anyway, we lost our inside man in the Ministry. Oh, make no mistake. I have lots of my lower rank followers working in or for the Ministry, but Owen Macnair can be trusted. And he is the head of a whole department. Not as good as the position Rookwood has, but it is something.

"The Ministry is in a state of panic. Since Fudge accepted the possibility that you might be back they are at a loss of what to do. With Crouch out of the picture and Moody too old to lead the Aurors, they have befallen under Fudge, who is as incapable as he is stupid. Honestly, if I didn't know better I would have thought that he is among your follower's, my Lord." Every one chuckles around the table. Indeed it is uncanny how that one man helped us so much the past year without any of us forcing him. But he is too much of a coward to join the Death Eaters.

"Still, better keep an eye on him. You never know what he might do." Narcissa said. She should know. All these years she had many dealings with the man seeing as Lucius had him in his pocket. Beautiful Narcissa, Lucius wife. She is not taking his place – Wormtail did that – but she can stand in for him and fill Lestrange's empty seat. I do believe it is going to be permanent no matter how much Bella might protest. After all, the circle voted. They decided. And Lestrange…let's just that he isn't the same since Azkaban.

It is funny watching the two sisters sitting next to each other. They couldn't be more different than this. One is blond, cold and arrogant. The other brunette, cruel and brilliant. Not that Narcissa isn't smart. Lucius wouldn't have married her otherwise, but she seems not to be willing to apply herself to what she is doing. At least she used to. I've never seen her looking more self aware and powerful before. Loosing your husband into that place because of a bunch of kids does that to a person, I suppose.

"Always do. Asides that, Arthur Weasley seems en route to a promotion, though not the Department of Mysteries, obviously. I think maybe Communications."

"That might be a problem." Engel says, a troubled frown setting on her face. "We need to be able to access the wizarding world through the media and Weasley is one of Dumbledore's people."

"We could try to approach him." Dear Bella offers.

"No, Bella." Severus speaks, looking at her. I try to hide an amused smile as she stares back at him annoyed that once more he has thwarted her chance to shine among them. When will she learn that each and one of them are indispensable to me? To the circle. "He is too close to Dumbledore. He'd never accept."

"His son might, though." Wormtail is thinking aloud.

Sometimes he does surprise me, this man. He is not a good wizard, in fact I do believe some people around here call him a hazard to the magical community, based only on the number of spells he blunders. That hand of silver I gifted him with doesn't seem to always be able to control his wayward spells. But he is not that stupid as certain people would like to believe. And he did spend all those years in Percy's – I believe the Weasley was – pocket. I look around the table to gauge the thoughts my most trusted followers have.

"What are you thinking Severus?" he is the next best person to ask. After all he did teach the boy for seven years. It is so useful to have him in the school. So useful to have some insight on what the new generations of wizards believe, think, want of their life.

"I think the idea has merit, my Lord." He answers clearly annoyed that all are staring at him expectantly. He doesn't seem to like attention this time around. Which is strange. He used to crave of it. Feed of it. "In fact I have had the thought many times before myself. But we should move with extreme care. Yes, Percy Weasley might consider it. Too attached as he is to Fudge, scornful of his parents and brothers and the Headmaster. But would he be willing to go against his own family? He is a Weasley after all."

"Maybe if he thought it was the right thing." Macnair says from his place. He has been seeing the boy around the Ministry as well. "He always seems to go out of his way to prove himself by doing the right thing and doing it excellently. We could affect his beliefs on what is the right thing. And maybe a promise that will boost his pride. Some money won't go amiss, either."

"Very well. Owen try to make a first contact and keep me informed of how things go." You never know. It might work. And it will be such a hit for the great Albus Dumbledore to have one more of his Gryffindors change sides.

"It might be better if he didn't do the contact." Engel speaks up.

Beautiful lady, her hair a silver white that can blind you, powerful witch. Certainly one of the most powerful in this room. Her magic is even stronger that her husbands, whose seat she fills. After all they do say that behind every great man there was an equally, if not more, great woman. Definitely true for Antonin. Poor, Antonin. Another man lost in our cause. I met him through Engel of course. Useful he was, until the day he died. His wife proves to be far more so.

And on the up side, now she is free to date.

And I shouldn't have thought of that. Nor should have the thought affect my…err…body.

Damn. Severus' potions have worked very well. Maybe more than they should. Wouldn't it be fun if the most powerful, Dark wizard of this age made a fool of himself in front of his minions because his body remembered certain…hmm…functions?

What's wrong with me today? Shouldn't I be thinking of how to kill everyone and rule this worthless little world?

"You never know, he might say no. Better be someone we can afford being found." Engel continues oblivious to my thoughts. There are nods of agreement all around the table. Thank the Gods that in all these years not inhabiting a body I didn't forget how to school my face not to show any unexpected emotions.

"If you have nothing more to report, Owen, we can go on." I say agreeing with their decision.

I suppose that the light side would be surprised to learn that this is how a meeting usually goes among the inner circle. Plans formed, ideas discussed, no torture. No _evil dark lord _ordering his slaves, forcing them to do his biding. Honestly! When Severus first told me that this was their idea of a Death Eater meeting I burst out laughing and he had to cast a spell to calm me down. Idiots, the whole of them. Sometimes it seems so useless to try to, well, win this war. They seem not worth the effort.

Wonder what they would think if they knew that the Dark Mark doesn't hurt when I call them to me. Do they really think I would be so stupid as to mark them in such a way that it could potentially compromise their hides, their lives when I call them and they are in the company of non Death Eaters? Not that I care if most of them live or die, but let's face it. I can't take over the world with followers that I hurt or kill on a whim. Yes, they do know that their lives belong to me, it was in the contract, but they wouldn't have joined me if they didn't think that we could win. That they would survive this war. Yes, everyone expects some losses, but who in their right mind would choose to follow a man that only promises of pain and death?

I may be mad and evil but I am not a fool.

They fear me because I am powerful and I show no regard over the life of most people, yes, but as they need me to reach their goal, what ever it is, I need them to reach my goal. And killing and torturing my own followers and soldiers isn't they way to go. Hell. I almost sound reasonable. I have to be careful of that. Can't ruin my reputation, now, can I? No, I have to be the Evil, Dark Lord that only has two things on his mind. To ki-

"My Lord? Are you with us?" stupid question. But it did ground me.

"No, I flew to Barbados for a moment there, Severus." My inner circle can't help the escaping chuckling. This was so unlike me. Better get on with the meeting. The night isn't getting any younger. "So what were you saying, Macnair?"

"My Lord, what happens if Weasley gets the promotion?" an interesting question indeed.

"Keep thwarting his chances. I know Dumbledore will be behind this, but if it comes to happen we'll deal with it later on." I decide after some very short time of thinking.

What else can we do after all, at the moment? Maybe I should discreetly say to Severus that he ought to drop a mention here and there that whoever takes said position might end up dead. Accidentally. They should consider that. Or maybe, I say nothing and send someone to kill Weasley senior anyway. He won't be such a great loss to the world, muggle lover that he is. Yes. I think I'll do this. Let him take the position. It will only bring him one step closer to his demise.

"Ok. Engel, what do you have for me?" I feel very pleased with my self, all of the sudden. As I say, there is no worse offence against the Wizarding world than a wizard that betrays it. Weasley does fit the description.

"Giants are with us, at least some of them. They have already begun to disturb areas in central Europe. The Ministries there know of your come back but they still won't do a thing. They have obviously promised that they will help, but unless you provoke them they don't see why they should make an enemy of you. As far as they are concerned you don't pose a threat yet. "

"When will people learn?" I sigh as the rest snicker. That was how we came to almost win the first war. People didn't think we were a threat. Then Severus decided he was bored and we find ourselves in this lovely situation. Sometimes I really, really want to kill him. It's his fault, as much as Potter's that I lost that time. I can't let him foil my plans a second time.

It's just that I haven't decided how to deal with him yet. I should have never taught him occlumency. But how was I supposed to know that he would be a natural in the art? How in the seven names of hell was I supposed to know that I wouldn't be able to break into this fort that is his mind?

"Well, at least the Giants will distract them from thinking it might be wise to join forces against us." Bella points out and I have to agree with that.

"Most big organisations, either in UK or in Europe have a number of supporters in higher positions. That ought to help too. Only Hogwarts has only one of us, but that is to be expected with the fool in charge. In fact I think we are damn lucky that Severus has been able to remain there for so long." Engel turns her bright eyes on Severus who only shrugs in an unbecoming of him act of shyness.

"It's a gift."

"What about rumours from within our ranks? New recruits?"

I know where that conversation was leading.

They don't trust Severus as I do. Still, I don't know what I trust him to do. He really has changed, my boy. This past a year and a half, I am only beginning to realise just how much. I wonder what happened to him. Wormtail has yet to find the answer to that riddle. I might have to punish him to give him some incentive. This is a thought. And maybe project it to Potter? A lovely nightmare-dream. Add the fact that Potter boy will run straight to Dumbledore telling him I don't trust my spy…yes, it is quite a thought, actually. I might just do it. Yes…

"People begin to get uneasy, since they view last summer as a failure." Bella answers as pretty much everyone darkens.

A bunch of kids able to stop us from getting the prophecy. That was unheard of. The fact that Malfoy and Nott and the others were captured didn't help any. At least they never guessed who exactly it was that called the Order. I don't believe I would have been able to stop them from killing Severus the moment they saw him. That was a dangerous game he played there. Only the fact that he warned me about it saved his ass this time. And he knows it.

"They don't question you, of course, but they always wonder why you can't kill the Potter brat."

"I never tried." I think I managed to surprise them all. They are gawking at me. This is quite funny. And I mustn't laugh. I really shouldn't.

Do they think I am putting them on? That I try to hide my weakness behind such a lame excuse? If they know me they shouldn't. But they clearly don't know what to make out of my statement. Severus lowers his head in thought. I don't like this. He is thinking. I can almost see him putting two and two together. Why did he have to be the most brilliant student since…since the records of such things have survived? He even beat my scores, damn boy. But then again, he did have quite a better schooling than I had, before he even went to Hogwarts.

His head snaps up, black eyes narrowing, looking at me. He is not intruding into my mind, he is not that stupid, but I realise he knows the moment his eyes widen and a small victory smile appears on his pale face. Damn him to seven hells! How could he understand? How much does he know? He is clever enough to know that I am not paranoid to threaten to destroy my life's work by going after Potter because of a prophecy. But I did. I never thought things would evolve they way they did. Huge miscalculation there, though I am still not clear on what happened.

I know I went there with Severus and Wormtail. I know that Wormtail went down almost immediately after we entered the house, from one of Potter's senior spells. Then, Severus? What happened to him? I remember facing the woman, saying something to her, killing her and then the baby. It was glowing…I think. And there was a shadow behind me…I…a whisper…I really can't remember. I think I've seen what happened in my dreams but they are yet elusive. I never seem to recall what I see in them. Someday. Someday soon I might….

But Potter. Harry Potter. So, yes. I went after him in the day of my rebirth. Had to prove to them all that Lord Voldemort was as powerful as ever. As cunning as ever. No one was safe, even within Hogwarts. But I also had to obscure the waters of exactly how powerful I am. What better way than to loose to a chit of a boy? A boy that is supposed to defeat me. And after all, I can't really kill Potter now. Not after the magic I used to come back.

I wonder if Dumbledore knows of said potion and spell. It is quite old. Its origins lost in the mist of time. I wonder what he'll make of it, if he knows. I blundered the prophecy anyway. If one of us kills the other…Potter and me…we are both of us dead. Lost.

Well, knowing Dumbledore and his uncanny belief in the power of good in people – or is it just plain stupidity? – he will allow Potter to fight me and kill me so that maybe he will subdue my evilness. Has he realised, yet, that there is a core of evil in his protégé? I saw it, burning brilliantly black when I possessed him, last summer. Quite fun that was. Except for all that sickly love the boy felt. It is shaken though. It won't be long before it cracks. Maybe.

I motion Bella to go on with her report. With the rhythm we are proceeding we will need a whole day! I do have other things to do. I unearthed quite a book about Slytherin. I never knew I had it. I think I even saw an image there that actually looks genuine. I swear that man had a fetish about not having any portraits of him being drawn.

"The new recruits are being trained, though it is a slow process. I swear schools were far better in our time." She looks at Severus accusingly. She knows his reputation. I stay silent, interested to see where this will go. Surprisingly, Severus just smirks and stares back, daring her to accuse him out front.

"Well, you can't expect them to be willing to teach a whole new generation of witches and wizards the means to fight back against what they throw at them." Engel replies as I had an inkling she might do. She is a Professor in Durmstrang. Charms. "Schools and education nowadays are providing the means of controlling the next generations. You can't do that by teaching them. Really teaching them about magic. Anything that could be considered potentially dangerous – as able to open the student's eyes to the reality of our world – is categorised as dark arts and magic and therefore is illegal to be found in the curriculum. And they call us manipulative!" Severus snorts.

So he agrees with her assessment. From what I've been hearing from both of them of Education, I must say I agree wholeheartedly. Severus is always whining about how he is forced to change his curriculum as the new students seem denser and denser every passing year. With less knowledge and what's worse less understanding of the wonderful world that is Magic. And they ask why there are some of us that think their perfect world is a feigned one?

"Since we are talking about education…" Severus looks up "…how are things in venerable Hogwarts?"

"Same old. That werewolf Lupin is back, which means that I have to spend time brewing the Wolfsbane for him, instead of doing something constructive. My expectations of the students haven't changed since last year. I have sorted out who we should try to approach. Some first years look promising and we do have some late bloomers. Longbottom finally seems to bring forth his magic, I had thought he was hopeless, though he certainly is when it comes to potions. First lesson and he managed to melt his cauldron. Again." He sighs while the rest we snicker. Well, he couldn't quite expect sympathy from us. And Longbottom's _abilities _and achievements in the field of Potions is something we all find extremely entertaining.

"That boy will be the death of me. Not to mention Potter and Draco. Though Draco is more silent this year. More concentrated, which is good. Otherwise, you know the rest. Potter is the star of school, Granger is the brilliant little witch that shadows the even better students of Hogwarts, all because she is muggleborn and especially Gryffindor.

"As for the teachers, some changes. We have a new Ethics of Magic Professor aboard. And I told you about Lupin. The rest are as always. Dumbledore…"

"Wait, wait." Bella stops him. A good place to stop him as well. "What about the new Professor?"

"Derian? What about him?" he replies and I see her face light in success.

I do believe she thinks she scored one over him. She really should know better by now. If he acted in a way that seemed strange – like he wanted not to speak about this new Professor – it probably was because he wanted someone to swallow the bait. And Bella did. She really should have known that Severus never, never says something or acts in a way without having an ulterior motive. He has become quite good on it actually. I don't think he was as good in the days before.

"So, it's Derian, eh? Already in first name basis? There are rumours that want you accompanying him in Diagon Alley last Monday." She smirks as some around the table, most noticeably dearest Engel, snap their heads to stare him.

"I suppose the source of said rumours is Mrs Nott."

"Then you don't deny it!"

"Of course not." I really don't understand where she is going with this. Or Severus. And I don't like to not to know. "What would be the point?" Aha! I am not the only one confused. Good, good. "What exactly is your point?"

"There are other rumours that claim you have known Derian Deofol for some time now and that, in fact, you are the one who brought him in Hogwarts." There is silence around as the rest try to gauge Severus thoughts and feelings on the subject just by staring him. I am bored to try to guess. I am sure the explanation will be given, maybe when we are alone? "And I can't help but wonder why didn't we learn of this earlier? Why was it that this reached us only after the term begun and never had the chance to find out if this is a good plan or not? Are you hiding something from us, Snape?" Oh. So that is what this is all about. The old we-don't-trust-you story. Still, it is a good point. If her information is right.

"Well, Severus? What do you have to say toof this?" I sit back and watch him, an amused expression in my face, as it is expected. He really hates it when I find him amusing.

"Nothing." he scowls at Bella before turning his attention to me. "It is true that Derian is a friend of mine, well actually he is more of a student of mine" he seems unable to hide a smirk. His eyes smiling in some only known to him truth or joke. And he says I have the inopportune humour! "When August was ending and the Headmaster still hadn't find anyone to fill that position I told him of a Wizard I knew that would be excellent for it. The man lives practically in the Muggle world, so the Headmaster didn't think that he would have any affiliations with us and the Ministry wasn't afraid that he would teach the students of things that they shouldn't know.

"Both the Ministry and Dumbledore have begun to regret their choice, though. I have to grant it to him, I must say." That is a real, gleeful smile on his face. I haven't seen one of those adorning his face in a long, long time. The change is startling. He looks ten years younger, happy instead of depressed. If just the thought of this Derian has him so amused, has such a great effect on my dear dark child, then he must be something else. Now, I am really interested in meeting this man. "Derian has been only a week in Hogwarts and already has the whole population of the school driven into trying to find out who he really is."

And it seems that this will be the case among us as well, judging by the thoughtful expressions of my inner circle. Somehow I don't think it's going to be that easy. Never be said that Severus ever associated with strange people. Or beings. Since he was a kid. I remember this one time he brought back in the house a Thestral! He was only six! Strolling around the Manor grounds. I knew there were, are Thestrals in the grounds, but how could he – a six year old boy see them? Whom did he see die? Then again I have to keep reminding my self that he didn't come upon my life so naturally, either. How many babies are there delivered by Dementors? Not to speak of what happened afterwards…

"A muggle born?" Macnair looks at him disbelievingly. "You made friends with a mudblood?" now that I think about it, he does have a point. Severus making friends with a Vampire, yes, I've seen it. With Veela? It has happened. Thank god it did, actually. It was rather disturbing to see my ranks ogling like fools to a pack of them. I do believe only the women – who were greatly amused by the whole scenery – Severus and I weren't affected. I know why I wasn't affected, but Severus? It did help the cause though. The pack was so intrigued by a man that didn't fall over for them just because they were there, that joined our ranks. In the women division, for obvious reasons. But a muggle?

"Do you know many wizards that are mudbloods and have the name Derian Deofol coming down the family?" He raises his eyebrows at Macnair and I concede with his reasoning. In fact I only know of one wizard ever named Derian-

"Deofol didn't have any children." Narcissa says her eyes narrowed in thought.

She always excelled in Magical History; in fact she has many a times been in magical archaeological excavations. It is a hobby of hers, and she is considered very good at it. I do believe it has more to do with how much she enjoys it, rather than how talented she is at it. As history goes, she is right of course. Derian Deofol didn't have any children. That much I do know.

"I would agree with you, but I will only point out that that was a thousand and three hundred years ago. Maybe he had some family that simply stayed low for fear of repercussions. Maybe we don't know about it. Maybe Professor Derian isn't his descendent, but I doubt that this name is known among the muggles. In fact not even the students know of him."

Why do I have the feeling that this is rather a practised talk?

"But he might be lying."

"Sure Peter," trust Wormtail to state the obvious. "but I can't know of that."

"And yet you befriend him?" Bella asks in wonder. Truth is she knows him maybe a bit too well. She was there while he was growing up, and has been there during the first war, even though she did spend fourteen years in prison. She has no reason to believe that he changed in his ways of distrusting everyone. She is right, you know. "Without knowing next to nothing about him?" That doesn't sound like Severus.

"I know I owe him my life, dear Bella." I do believe I am startled. He rolls his eyes, clearly he didn't mean to say it. Seems like there is a history here.

"When? I don't think I know of this." I ask him, no longer amused by the story. I only know of one time he almost died and someone saved him.

"Remember about a year before you…faced Potter for the first time?" He blocks me. He is concentrating – I can see that – and keeps me well out of his mind. I really think I might begin changing my ways with him. Maybe some torture would remind him certain things. Like he is not aloud to have any secrets from me. I know I haven't been able to peak in his mind since he was 20, unless he let me, but he should know better. I shouldn't need his permission. He is mine. Body and soul and mind, damn him.

"The year I fell." I snap out, startling him. Is this apprehension in his eyes? Good. About time too. "Don't dance around it. It happened. If you want not to anger me you'd stop evading the truth, rather than trying to appease me in such a way."

"My Lord, I wasn't…I apologise." He says, the amount of uncertainty in his voice, filling me. He is afraid. He feels he doesn't have control anymore. It was about time he remembered. I might indulge him into allowing him to think that he can control certain aspects of his, this life – it would be stupid not to, I need his power and if this is the price to pay it, I can allow it. But it is beneficial to remind him now and them, exactly where the true power lies.

"Walk with me, Severus. The rest, have a break, or maybe think of a way to break Lucius and the rest out. I think it's about time."

I rise and so do all, a sign of respect. Severus follows me, looking troubled, I am pleased to see, with no hint of hesitation. We leave the room, the door magically closing behind us, all signs that there was ever a door there erasing in threads of purple sparks. Severus walks a step behind me in the long corridor, as the protocol suggest. If he feels that there is need for the protocol to be obeyed, then he has indeed done something I won't like. I bet it has to do with this new Professor.

The sounds of our steps are absorbed in the thick dark coloured carpet that covers the corridor. I love this place. This Manor. It belongs to the Family of Snape. Severus is the last descendent of this truly remarkable family. Their history goes back even beyond the time of the Founders. Some say that they were around when Merlin was alive, but I find that hard to believe. In any case Narcissa would be the better one to tell their story. I only was interested in those parts that had to do with Salazar Slytherin.

They say he loved her. Selest Snape.

One thing about the family I found very strange, the first time I heard of them, is the fact that primarily the women are the ones that carry the name of the family. The women were handed down the power, the money, the land, everything. That is if the descendents were both male and female. If there were only male then everything went to the most gifted child. He became the next head of the Family if the Mother died. Otherwise it would be his daughter. Legend has it that women were the most talented and powerful of them anyway. Legend has it that the last of their descendents will be the most powerful wizard in the last thousand years.

But the family is dying out and I can't see this legend coming true.

Selene always believed in it though. I wonder who she had Severus with. To be honest this is a question that has plagued me often in the past – how old is the boy? – 41? 42 years? It was their custom, also, never to reveal the true father of their children. Stupid custom. It is thought that only the mother knew the name of the father and that she would tell it to her offspring only in her deathbed.

I wonder how their husbands accepted such a situation. The fact that they were allowed to live in luxury, using the money and sources of the family, as well as the name, probably helped. They only needed to act as a father to the child. And they did get their bodily needs appeased as well.

Strange family.

In any case, I don't think that there is ever a chance of me finding who Severus' dad is, seeing as how Selene doesn't roam around here as a ghost. I know Severus has no clue, either. Considering my parentage, he is better off not knowing.

The door opens in our left and I walk into the room I wanted to enter. I love the way this castle works. Knowing what I want, offering it. I suppose one could say that I am one of the men accepted as husbands of the Snape women. Which is why the castle obeys me as well as it does Severus. And I did keep the end of the bargain.

The room is breathtaking. And serves my purposes perfectly. Severus enters a bit slowly in the room and I fight the urge to smirk. This is the room of Morrigan. Built in an era when scenes from nature and religion were the most popular, the ceiling and the walls around tell the story of the Goddess of War and Death, in dark blood red and black colours. The paintings are so real that you'd think they'll come to life at any moment now. Accentuated by the glowing green-marble that makes the floor and the dark light from some unknown, hidden source, this room always held an apprehensive feeling for my spy.

Since he was a boy, Severus would avoid said room. I asked him about it once. He said it felt wrong. Unnerving. He said there were too many souls lingering in here. Waiting for some strange event to happen. He said he felt that what ever it was, it was coming. I feel nothing, as I never did. But I watch him, now. He tries to keep himself still, his face schooled into impassiveness, but…there are some moments when he flinches, his eyes dart here and there, looking, searching for something only he can see.

It has him unhinged, this room. That will make it more difficult for him to lie. To hide from me.

"My Lord. Maybe we should go some place else." As I said. He looks…no. His head is lowered, but he is not staring at the floor. He has his eyes shut. Whatever it is that inhabits this room that unnerves him so must be getting stronger. Or he is getting weaker, but I don't really believe that.

"Why? What is it you are feeling, Severus?" I am interested in the answer as it is. Always has been, but I doubt he knows it.

"I…I don't know. My Lord?" His head snaps up and looks at me pleadingly. I do so enjoy this. It's feels wonderful having such a powerful young man in my command. He won't leave until I allow him to.

"No. I feel nothing. I do believe this is a beautiful room."

"As you wish, my Lord." He breaths in, trying to relax. It is frightening to see so many thoughts, feelings passing through his face. He is always so controlled.

"As I wish." I agree. And I get serious. I think it is time we talked over some things. "Severus, I want you to stop your games."

"My games?"

"Yes." I walk towards the black leather armchair that has appeared in the middle of the room, right next to the circular ingle. The fire is warming and relaxing, at least for one of us here. The smoke is magiced away. Severus remains where he is. "Your games. You know very well I know. And I have permitted. I won't say it wasn't fun. You, me playing this whole chess game, with alive pawns and the prize being when the victory would be achieved. But I do believe that you took it too far."

"My Lord, I didn't…"

"You say you had nothing to do with the prophecy?" He takes a step back as if he is slapped. Frankly I wish I had slapped him. More. When he was a child.

"The prophecy. I only told you it was made. The Headmaster was discussing it with McGonagall and I overheard them. And I told you." He stares me, his ebony eyes allowing me entrance to the labyrinth that is the human mind, calling forth those memories for me to see. He speaks the truth. Yet…yet he won't let me access any memory I might want.

"You are blocking me." He lowers his eyes nodding affirmatively. "Why? What are you hiding?"

"There are…instances in my life I don't want to be known." The truth again. I must say that I respect the fact he won't lie to me when he wants to hide something. And usually I didn't care what it was he didn't want me to know. Severus Snape is a very private person. It would be mind-rapping if I forced my way into his thoughts. It would be fatal too. I'd loose him forever. But I want to know.

"Maybe some day you'll trust me with them." I say instead. He immediately relaxes. "I'll drop it for now. If you answer me truthfully."

"Always, my Lord."

"Oh, for heavens name! We are alone. Drop the title."

There was a time I had to scold him into adhering me properly when before others. Now, I have to remind him that he is to me so much more than the rest that I don't want him to call me his Lord. I may not be his father, but I may as well have been. I'm the only family he ever had. Some will argue that this isn't much, having the Dark Lord as your family, but at least he got one. With Severus, I tried to give him the childhood I never had.

"I am sorry." He frowns. "It gets confusing remembering who is who, lately." I noticed. I did and it worries me.

"We haven't really sat down and spoke till my return. Last year was a busy one, for both of us, and that fool hasn't let you out of his sight these past summers. Think maybe you could stay over this weekend? Send him a letter saying I gave you an assignment to do and you have to stay over?"

"He won't like it." He looks at me doubtfully. I think that he wants to go back for some reason. It can't be Dumbledore, can it? "He'll want to know all the details and then he'll pester me to stop coming here."

"Will he really?" I notice he dropped the title, but he uses no name. Some times he is such a fool. Or maybe just a young man still. "Sit down." Another armchair appears out of thin air next to me and the fire and he lowers him self graciously. His eyes still dart around at times. Trying to pry into the dancing shadows. Looking for an answer to some unknown riddle. "So what if he doesn't like it? You are a Death Eater. You answer to me first."

"My L…of course I do. I'll stay. It's been quite sometime I was around here anyway. I wan to make sure that Bella and that fool Peter don't go around destroying the place."

"They don't." I answer and I am almost smiling. It'll be good if he spends some time back here. Home. "They are rather afraid of the castle. They say that it doesn't approve of them wandering around." His face lights up with an amused smile. I can't help but snort. "I thought you might have had something to do with that."

"Well, it is my castle. I'd rather not see it changed every time I come back."

"You do what you want to do, for the weekend. Now, tell me. What about this new Professor. Did he really save your life?" his face sobers again, just as I suppose mine does.

"Yes. Remember in 1979? I disappeared for about four months." Yes. I remember that. He never let me found what happened then either. I would have pressed, I did press, but the news of the prophecy came and we were preparing a big attack as well. I let it go after a while. After all, it was enough that he was back alive. I had thought…I nod for him to continue. "I was attacked, stabbed in the back before I managed to escape. I kind of apparated in front of Derian, who took me in and nursed me back to health."

"And it took you four months to get well?" there is something here that…I can't pin point what but…something rings false. "Who stabbed you?"

"You are not going to like the answer." He warns me. I close my eyes and sigh dejectedly.

"Death Eaters then."

The rumour of his spying ways existed then as well. Since 79 actually. He had been a spy for far longer, and no one would have been the wiser if that fool, Dumbledore, hadn't almost jeopardise his cover by publicly going to him and asking for his help with a matter of the Order of the Phoenix. I had been incredulous then. I thought, I was certain that the Old Man had either seen through the game, or simply didn't care enough whether Severus survived this war or not. Stupid Gryffindors. Have all the subtlety of a Griffon.

"Yes. And Derian was just a kid at the time. Wise enough not to evolve anyone else in the matter. Inexperienced enough not to be able to use any magic. The knife used was dipped in a potion or another and the wound wouldn't close. My magic was weak at best at the time – I had lost a fair amount of blood – so all I could do was wait, telling him what to do."

"How young was he? What about his parents?" why isn't he letting me see this?

"Around eight or ten. He looks younger than he really is. Even now." Again that uncontrollable smirk in some kind of personal joke. What is he hiding? "His parents travelled too often to notice anything." Another neglected child. There always seem to be so many around.

"I see. And he came to Hogwarts?"

"No. He grew up as a muggle child. I thought in the beginning that he was a muggle. But there were things that didn't make sense about him. His name for starters. And the fact that he knew of wizards. He just couldn't do any magic. He had it blocked somehow. As he got older said ability surfaced but he was too old for Hogwarts. His parents didn't really care what happened to him. He attended Muggle School and when his powers switched on he contacted me. He asked me to teach him and I did."

"Is he any good?" it happens.

Not very often but it happens for a child not to have any magical power until he or she grows up to his teens. Usually they are a little better than squibs before it happens. Extremely rarely when they have no powers. But it happens. Sometimes they are traumatised into blocking all away. And in later age, when their mind, their organisation can deal with the shock, magic just returns to them.

"He is one of the best in the Dark Arts and Arithmancy that I have seen around. Far better than most of your followers. He actually has a brain and uses it." Too high a praise to come out of Severus.

"So good, huh? Do you think he might be cajoled to join us?" one more man would never go amiss.

"I've no idea." So final. In one moment it's as if he knows the man for years and the next as if he just met him.

"I thought you taught him. Surely you must…"

"No." he interrupts me. I scowl but he doesn't seem to notice. Well, I did tell him that there was no need to adhere to the protocol, but that was rude. "Derian has the uncanny ability to hide his real thoughts behind so many lies, you never really know what is true about him or not."

"So you think he will be loyal to Dumbledore?"

"Not a fat chance." He snorts, amused that I ever thought of something like this. "He is not a man you can order around. You can ask him to do something, but even then he'll only do it if there's something in it for him. The Headmaster doesn't stand a chance before him."

I can't help but raise my eyebrows at that. Certainly that is not something you hear often about anyone, nowadays. Stand up to Dumbledore. Is it my imagination but does Severus actually always call him the Headmaster? Never Dumbledore or Albus? I'd thought that after all these years of practically living there they would have at least this familiarity.

"But if he won't stand being 'ordered around' then he won't want to join us either." I say silencing my thoughts for the moment. I have a whole weekend to observe him. I'll get some answers then.

"I doubt he will."

"I see that you never said that he wouldn't support our ideas. Strange choice of an Ethics professor a man with no clear sights."

"Oh, his sights are clear. Just usually misunderstood." Severus bends forwards elbows on his thighs, palms supporting his head, as he gazes deeply into the fire. I do think that this man has him enthralled. "And his to know. He is quite solitary, Derian. He does things for his own reasons and if they happen to coincide with another person's plans, so much the better for the other person. Derian doesn't want to be on the loosing side."

"How long have you spent with him? How well do you know him?"

"How well can I predict him?" he asks back understanding perfectly what I am asking.

"You'll have to admit that he sounds like a very strange character. It seems he is part of one of your games. It's just that this time I am not quite certain what game you are playing, Severus. I have to admit I am getting really tired of this whole situation. This war. I want to get this whole thing done and over with. I want it finished and your little games seem to obstruct my plans for the future. I don't want any more new surprises every time I take a turn. Consider yourself warned. You either stop this whole thing, or I don't know what I will do."

The minutes stretch in silence, as I see him staying there, unmoving, thinking perhaps what I've said. I didn't really want it to come to this but what I've said is true. I understand his need for something more…intellectually gripping…than this situation – brilliant minds are so hard to keep interested and focused in one target – but my time is running out. He sighs and I am wondering if he had been breathing all this while.

"My Lord. I understand. No more games. I'll stop leading you or Dumbledore. That is why I entered Derian in the game, I suppose. I know you want to win this quickly. I wouldn't stop you."

"But Derian will?"

"I don't know. He might. Or maybe he'll just leave. Or help Dumbledore. He is an unknown. Even to me. Can I be excused now?" his shoulders are slumped. This discussion must have taken more out of him than I thought it would. Or it could be the room. He hasn't stopped shaking once since he sat down.

"Just one last think." He looks at me expectantly. "When you figure it out, come and tell me. The feeling you get in here." I explain when his eyes cloud in misunderstanding. He nods affirmatively and leaves the room as silent as ever.

I am still seating here, ten minutes after he presumably went up in his rooms to mail Dumbledore. I copy his earlier posture and find my self staring at the firing going over what he told me of Derian. I wonder if he realises how much he let out of himself, tonight. He has to make a decision, as I always knew he would have to, when time came.

Me or Dumbledore?

Dark or Light?

The fight over his soul was never won by any of the two sides. It could be light in the world and he would fight to darken in. It could be darkness spreading around and he would hold the torch for the lost to find their ways. That is my boy. Shunned by all, he only wants to belong. It's just that he doesn't know where yet and I am not fool enough to tell him what he should do. Advise, yes, but command?

It seems that this new Professor was brought into the scheme for this reason. Severus can't choose so Derian Deofol gets to choose. And the answer remains as uncertain as ever.

Maybe I should go seek Engel. Tell her of all this. She'll laugh when I tell her I believe that this scrawny little boy of Selene's has enough power to determine the outcome of the war, but I wonder if she'll laugh after I've told her everything about Severus. Sometimes it helps having creatures that can see more than our feeble eyes can perceive as the reality of our world. Nagini tells me the most strange and wonderful stories about those men that cannot die unless you know how to kill them. Nagini tells me my boy is one of them, sparkling with more power – or, in her words, dark scorching light – than any magical being she has ever seen. And Nagini is a very old and wise Snake.

All this lead somewhere, I know that much. I just wish I knew where.

_ffffffffffffffff_

_Many, many thanks to those that reviewed. Your comments mean a lot. With the work load I am currently having, I would have stopped writing altogether weren't for you guys._

_To _Morena Evensong: _the poem was not written by anyone. It was passed down in Ollivander's family, to each family member that took over the shop and the craft of wand making. Legend has it that these were the words with which one of Slytherin's daughters gave the wand to Ollivander's ancestor. Can I use your idea of the chatting over a cup of tea? I loved it. Please? If I write a chapter and it just has to be in? In the future? Oh, to answer a previous question Lord Voldemort might or might not be Slytherin's heir. You'll see. As for the chamber…I don't know. If he has use of it maybe._

_To _Village-Mystic: _Err…I don't know if it was a problem with fanfiction, seeing as it was down for all this time, but I got your reviews like now. All together. Anyhow. Thank you so much about that Rickman visualisation. For some reason I had never thought of seeing a younger Snape like a younger Rickman, and I llike the actor so much. Spot on the glamour thing. About Merlin and Slytherin. Yes Methos was Merlin but I never said he was Slytherin as well. I begun the story with him having worked at some point with him, but seeing as every one liked the idea, yeah…after chapter 4 or 5 I changed him into having been Slytherin. By the way, Merlin had children? That's one myth I didn't know about. But yes, Aiwens or simply immortals that are born wizards can have children. But there is a catch. And it is for a future chapter. So, all in all, thank you very much for reviewing. I am so happy you like the story so far. _

_To _MarbleGlove _this was one of the best reviews I ever got. Thank you. _

_Only on thing left for you to do now. Go on. Hit the button._


	10. Saturday 6th, Hogwarts

**_Disclaimer: _**_not mine, unfortunately._

_Happy New Year, everyone, If a bit belatedly_

_Ok. Chapter 10. I do believe that it will find your approval people, at least from the error aspect. I have a beta now! So anyway, anything in there that is wrong, my mistake. MarbleGlove, thank you so very much._

_ffffffff _

**_Saturday 9th September_**

**_Hogwarts_**

Derian walked idly the halls of the school, trying not to think of all the possible reasons why Snape was not back yet. He had left the previous evening with a promise that he'd be back before daybreak the next morning. It was past midday and he was not yet back. Derian wasn't worried that Snape might be dead, such a chance was feeble, to say the least, but what if his secret had been found out? It was ironic that the young immortal followed a mortal man whose goal was to become immortal himself.

When Severus had first explained to him exactly what was going on, he realized that he would have to do something.

Frankly he didn't care so much whose views were right or wrong. Everything changed with time and today's certainties were tomorrow's follies. Personally he found both sides partially right and partially wrong, as was always the case with him.

It wasn't difficult to realize why the older, pureblood families cried out for the blood of the muggleborn witches and wizards, who invaded their reality, bringing with them ideas to which they didn't have time to get accustomed. The wizarding community had retreated into the background since the birth and prevalence of Christianity over the older, closer to nature and natural magic, religions. Over the years the Wizarding community had evolve along a differently carved path than the rest of the world.

Methos preferred the Wizarding world in many instances. Their beliefs, their ways were closer to what his own were, to what he generally liked better. But then again, he couldn't fail to acknowledge that without the Muggles, the mortals, the modern world would be a thousand years behind. Not that it would be all that bad, but Muggles had improved certain areas of everyday life, hygiene being only one of them. Science wouldn't exist the way the modern world knew if not for Muggles. It was very difficult to say if an alternative present would have been better, but he did like now, with all the problems it brought.

And speaking of problems, where in heaven's name was Severus?

He had known from the first moment he laid eyes on him that the boy would be trouble. Maybe the knife sticking out from his back had something to do with that. Yeah. It probably was that. And the mark on the boys arm. And the scars all over his body.

Derian hated to admit it, but he was worried.

He knew perfectly well that Severus had never been completely honest about why he joined the Death Eaters or why he left them, but he never pressed for the personal details. He could appreciate very well the need of solitude and secrets. He had a ton of his own secrets anyway. And he wasn't the least eager to share them with other people. He had learned to operate in a need-to-know basis and so had Severus.

He hoped that maybe sometime Severus would open up, not that he had any misgivings about how unlikely that was. Still he was a student of human nature and he could read Severus**'** body language fairly well. Thus he knew that Severus wasn't afraid of dying in the hands of the Dark Lord. No. it was something else that bothered the young Immortal.

"Professor Deofol." The airy voice alerted him on the presence of The Witch who was descending the stairs as they moved to settle on his level. A faint smirk appeared on his face.

"Professor Trelawney. It is sad indeed that you don't gift us with your presence more often during the meals." The Witch answered him back with a smile similar to his own.

"Oh, I find it clouds my inner eye." Her red-brown hair flew in every direction and looked as if on fire every time a sun ray chanced to pass through it. Large silver glasses hid the knowledgeable light brown eyes, as the luminous blue robes obscured the well-exercised body. To Derian's well trained eyes she appeared as she was. One of the oldest immortals alive. And one with a gift rarely found amidst their kind.

"Could I interest you in a walk outside the castle, Madame? It's too beautiful a day to be lost spent inside these gloomy walls, alone." He smiled as he offered her his hand, which was accepted with a gracious mock bow.

"But of course Monsieur. It is after all the reason you found me descending from my haven. My tarot cards told me of a pleasant meeting and a walk, were I to come by this way."

"Really, Sibyl!" Derian said as he laughed out loud.

"Well, it beats saying that I am simply answering the message your elf brought me." Trelawney shrugged. "But be quiet, you. We don't need people overhearing us. Which is why I suppose you offered me this lovely walk."

"Spot on, my dear. Spot on."

The two Professors left the Main Entrance in favour of the sunlit grounds of the school. Not surprisingly, many of the students and Professors were walking around the grounds, despite the wind, as the sun was out after the past few days of almost constant raining. The two Professors managed to maintain their serious expressions as more than one jaw dropped as they made their way through student clusters towards the Northern end of the lake, where a lone willow stood.

Only when they were hidden by her branches, safe from the indiscreet eyes of the rest of the population of the school, did they allowed themselves to relax, breaking into identical smiles as they faced each other.

"So, _Derian. _You do realise that by tomorrow half the school will know that you are romantically involved with the crazy Professor Sibyl Trelawney?" she asked him playfully as she seated herself in the blanket Derian conjured.

"Err…" suddenly Derian seemed worried. "I hadn't thought of that, to be honest. I just needed to speak to you and…"

"Methos." The Witch became serious suddenly. "What did you want to ask?" Derian seemed to change at the use of his oldest of names. He looked more regal, more old and serious. Dangerous in a way that very few people had known him as.

"Cassandra. Have I thanked you, yet, for all you have done for me?" even his voice was different, no accent colouring a voice that was once used to other very different languages.

"Many times, now. But you know that everyone of them is most welcome." She took of her glasses and glanced up at him.

The Witch herself presented a different image as well. She no more looked half crazy, but power and mystery seemed to follow her every movement. They were no more the simple Professors that the Hogwarts populations saw every day. They were far more than that. They were the oldest immortals alive. And they knew the names they were using couldn't alter or hide this fact when they chose not to. And this was one of those rare choosing-not-to times.

"And never enough."

"Never." She agreed as she watched him lowering himself next to her.

He stared at the water that was included in that little haven, separated from the outside world with a green curtain of willow braches and leafs, giving the interior a playful blue light. In the small haven there was an eerie silence, the magic too powerful not to be felt by other creatures, warning them not to tread too closely. This was a place of secrets, made from people that were secrets. The ancient willow had been a witness to so many events in history that it knew how to keep yet another mystery hidden.

"Never." He agreed. "But appreciated always." She only nodded, consciously trying to relax next to the man whom she had known under many names and epithets. Master, teacher, slave didn't even cover half of them.

"Methos, he is going to be alright." She told him, instinctively knowing what was bothering him.

"Yes. I know. It's just…I…I would hate it if he was hurt."

Cassandra felt a pang of jealousy inside her. Had he ever cared for her as much as he seemed to care for Severus? He had never explained to her why it was so important she had to come into the Wizarding School playing a very dead student of hers in divination. Sybil Trelawney had been a real diviner, such as she was, and she had died when a husband had not liked the prophesised future she had offered him.

Methos had promised her anything. He had told her that he would do anything for her if she played this part. He had need of someone that knew of wizards, he had told her, someone who could disguise herself as one of them. The task was simple. She just had to meet the Headmaster of the school and pretend to get a vision and make a prophecy. She had agreed, not once thinking that she would have to spend the past 15 years in the darn school.

Minus some leaves of absence, of course.

As when she went to warn MacLeod of the threat Kantos was.

Or when she hunted Kronos, last year. That had been…interesting, what with forcing the ancient one to get her a time-turner and joining forces against the rest of the Horsemen. It had been so very hard on her former master, to come up with a plan to kill those monsters he called brothers. It was the best revenge she could wish for and one that he couldn't blame her for. Deep down he had known that the day Kronos and the rest would have to die was approaching. Most immortals did make a habit of policing their own, and dealing with those that would reveal their kind to the rest of humanity.

It was too great a danger to be left uncontrolled.

"He won't." she answered at last, when she knew her voice wouldn't betray her.

"I suppose you've seen it in your crystal ball, then?" he asked sarcastically.

"No." She snorted. "Most people think that I am a crazy witch who predicts nonsense. What they don't understand is that I know how to look people, read them, their thoughts and their feelings when they don't protect them, and draw conclusions. Your student has never been hurt in any of those meetings. Not in the past year, nor in the years before Tom Riddle fell."

"You are right, of course." They stayed silent for some minutes. "So, he hasn't realised that you are one of us yet?"

"No. The magic in the school does dampen our signature, as you very well know, and whatever it was that you did with my quickening, well, it works. I seem to be able to feel others as I normally do, but my signature is very faint."

"Yes. I know." Methos smiled with satisfaction.

"It helps, of course, that I rarely come down from my quarters, where Snape never has any reasons to wander. And if he does, he would probably think that the feeling he gets is because of all the incense burning, rather than me." Her eyes moved to look at him a bit accusingly.

"Yes, I do seem to remember telling him that he should be able to feel clearly one who is immortal." Methos replied a bit slyly. "But what did you expect? I had to come into a plan in no time and I never imagined that the old fool would insist you teach in the school. This would be the reason why I had to dampen your Quickening when you told me you agreed to stay here for a longer while. You don't think I would have done it otherwise, do you?"

"No. Not really. Though it does make me wonder exactly how powerful yours is. I confirmed it last year, you know. Yours was the weakest of the four. And you were at least 1000 years older than Kronos. And I don't believe it is because you haven't taken as many heads as the others had. I do know that says nothing of how powerful an immortal really is. You told me yourself, once: Only age counts."

"It's strong enough." Methos replied darkly. "Anyone wondering yet as to why you can't do magic?"

"And you call divination, what exactly?" Cassandra asked irritated. "Not to mention me being an animagi and having the Voice."

"Come on, old girl. You know what I mean. Magic in the form they know it. And you know you can't be changing forms around here. You are not registered as animagus with the Ministry. And about the Voice, might I remind you that it would be considered a form of the Imperio curse and thus have you thrown in Azkaban in no time?"

"Yeah, yes. However I do live a very secluded life. And I can do the basic ones." She removed her wand from her sleeve and cast a few spells to show him. She felt the urge to smile when he looked at her approvingly and clearly in admiration.

"That is very good, Cassandra. You've improved a great deal."

"Well, I do live in a wizarding school. So, tell me, what are your plans?"

"Plans?"

"Methos." Cassandra rolled her eyes. "I am not staying around here, in the middle of a war, without knowing at least what you're thinking of doing to end it."

"To be honest I don't know." Methos sighed. "When I got Severus' letter, I was quite surprised. Mind you, not as much as Mac was, but it was a close call. I had decided not to answer. I wouldn't have answered, had the Highlander not gone and done all those stupid things he did."

"You mean Ahriman?"

"I do mean Ahriman." Methos confirmed to her. "After he left, I simply couldn't stay behind. And Severus sent more than one letter. He sounded quite desperate."

"They are desperate." Cassandra agreed with him. "Since the Dark Lord returned I've seen a whole Ministry crumbling with its own idiocy. And all of them putting their future, their chances on a 16 year old who can't even predict or create a convincing future for himself."

"I did hear he was useless in Divination." Methos smiled, as the two immortal teachers begun to talk about their students.

"Useless doesn't begin to cover it. He is good in Defence against the Dark Arts though. Passable in Charms and Transfiguration. Amazing in flying…if only he could get his mind off the clouds once every so often."

"You don't seem to like him that much." Methos said amused.

"You won't believe what I've been told they call me." Cassandra's face clouded. "Ghosts and paintings are a great way to learn what happens in the castle without being seen, or indeed moving about."

"That is a good piece of information." Methos mused over it as new ideas and plans begun forming in his mind.

"So…?"

"So?"

"You plans, Methos!" Cassandra rolled her eyes exasperated.

"I am not sure yet." Methos admitted. "There are many things I need to consider."

"What things? Voldemort is evil, kill him." Cassandra said harshly, earning a stare from the older immortal.

"It's not so simple. Severus…you know who he is. I am sure you have a prophecy about him." At her nod he went on. "He will become a powerful mage, but he must survive this life. I know he brought me here to help him, I simply don't know against whom he needs my help."

"You think he wants the Dark Lord to live?" Cassandra asked, remembering all the rumours she had heard of the Potions Master.

"I think he doesn't want Potter to kill him. Not that he should, considering which potion Voldemort used to come back, but…that spell…in the first war, that spell that I taught him should have killed Voldemort. There was no way he could survive it, unless Severus did something wrong."

"Or didn't really wish to kill him." Cassandra said aloud what he couldn't say himself.

"Yes. There is a bond there. Between those two, and Severus, you must have sensed his aura, he is not exactly bending towards the light side."

"No. Though he is not as corrupted as you were."

"Why, thank you, my dear. It is good to know I am loved." Methos replied dryly.

"Oh, sod off."

"Language! What if the students heard you, Professor Trelawney?" Methos said amused, assuming his teaching persona.

"I am sure they would agree with me, Professor _Devil_." Methos grimaced.

"Touché."

"I have my moments."

"Yes. Well. Until I know what Severus is planning, and he wouldn't have called me if he wasn't planning something, I don't know what plan to form." Methos threw a pebble in the lake, for a moment getting himself lost in the ripples of the waves. "It's not as if he can't defeat Voldemort himself. But…if I am right, and I think I am, there is a very good reason why he won't."

"Which you don't want to share with me, right?" Cassandra told him abstractedly, as she suddenly seemed to be both with him and somewhere else. He noticed.

"No. Not yet. I'll play the simple teacher for the moment." He fell silent as he stared at The Witch. He followed her eyes to where she was staring into nothingness. He watched her shivering and completely disregarding his presence and decided he didn't like it at all. "Cassandra?" he laid his hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her from whatever realm she lost herself into. That was her gift. Visiting planes of existence that were, are or could be. "Are you ok?"

"Can't you see her?" she answered her voice lowered in awe.

"See who?" Methos begun to feel uneasy. He remembered all those times that she would go all misty and hazy, back when she was just another slave and he was just another warlord – neither of them being just that. He had been apprehensive of her then, just as he was now.

"She is dead. Long dead. Tall, silver hair, black eyes. Dressed in green and gold. She says…she says you broke your promise. You shouldn't have come back."

"There was no other way. Tell her."

It was probably his tone that brought Cassandra back to reality. It was sad beyond anything she had heard before from him. Tired and surrendered, it sounded nothing like the immortal she knew. As she turned her eyes to look at him, she realised he looked nothing like all those faces she had seen before as part of him. It was a new personality emerging from the chaos that was he and she felt attracted to the new mystery he presented.

"Who was she?" she asked when she turned back to the vision to find her gone.

"She is gone then?"

"Yes." She stared at him as he stretched backwards lying half outside the blanket, onto the smooth green grass. "Who was she? What promise?"

"Her name is Selest Snape. As you said, she is long dead. 923 years to be precise. I once promised her that I would never walk these grounds again."

"Never is a long time." Cassandra mused. Time worked so differently for them.

"Indeed. But she knew who, what I was. She was also best friends with a great Diviner of her era. Said Diviner prophesied something that had Selest make me promise her that."

"You don't know the prophecy?"

"No. At the time I was quite fed up with all prophecies – there were enough around calling for my, my persona's demise. And I had grown tired of most every one around here. It wasn't so difficult for me to promise her that I would never return. Ever." He rubbed his face slowly as if it would make memories of long ago lives would go away. "To be honest I wouldn't have returned if not for Severus."

"You love the boy, don't you." Again that slight feeling of jealousy came forth and coloured her voice. Methos noticed.

"Cassandra." He turned to look at her, both serious and amused. "Severus is my student. I care for him. I am not going to compare him to you or try to explain myself or my reasons to you or anyone else. You are not him just as Severus is not you. Not comparable."

They sat in silence after that, nothing else seemingly being there for either of them to say. It wasn't uncomfortable. They had found themselves in alike situations so many times in the past that even when there was no love lost between them they had no problem withstanding the presence of each other. At some point down the years they had begun to enjoy it for the simple thing it was. Two immortals. Two very old immortals sitting next to each other the Game controlling neither of their minds. They had seen so much death, so much betrayal, felt so much pain and disgust that they appreciated those few moments they could just sit and be themselves, knowing that they were being accepted for what they were.

"Why can't you see her?" Cassandra said what had been on her mind for some time now. "I had thought that…"

"She doesn't want me to see her."

"Excuse me?"

"Cassandra, you have a rare ability, one that I can't say I envy in the least. You can see in other planes of existence. You can see what you are looking for and hear what you've been listening to. I can't. If the dead care to walk this plane I cannot see them unless they choose to be seen. If they speak, I won't hear them, unless they want me to listen to them. They cannot escape you anymore. You've honed the ability very well."

"You taught me how." She protested. "How can you say you can't see them or hear them when you taught me all I know about the other realms?"

"I guided you to find your knowledge." He corrected her. "You needed an anchor, someone who wouldn't allow you to lose yourself to the other realm before you knew your way around, or knew how to deal with situations. I could do that for I have been taught certain things about other realms. I could guide you once there, for I know the ways."

"So why can't you see her?"

"I can enter another realm, especially the Other World, and have a walk around, but I can't know when someone from another realm visits us. Does that make sense?" Methos asked, slightly playing with his hands, trying not to think about how he had no idea how he knew what he knew, or who had taught him. Maybe that was one of the reasons when his late wife had asked him never to return to these grounds he had no problem agreeing with her. This place all too frequently reminded him of what he should remember but was still just across the curtain that clouded his furthest past.

"Not really." She said dryly.

"Well, I can't explain it better." He shrugged as he climbed back to his feet. "I think it might be best if we head back or the students will think that I am more than just romantically involved with you." She screwed her face as she accepted his outstretched hand.

"Imagine that. Those little brats could just go and think it. Sometimes they have the dirtiest minds. Thirteen year old brats." He led her back to the more populated grounds of Hogwarts.

"I really think it is time you moved on." Derian smiled amused.

"You don't say. Fifteen years in here…it's a lot of time even for me." She agreed, her words completely the opposite of the image she once more presented to the out world. "I really don't understand how they do it."

Derian could only chuckle as they walked the grounds towards the castle.

With the ease brought by millennia of practice, the two immortals buried their true identity, allowing the world to see their expected personas.

The two Professors were back. At least for now.

_fffffffff_

_Hope you enjoyed. I got exams at the moment, which was why I didn't updated earlier, and which is why you shouldn't expect a new chapter all that soon._

_Village Mystic: It does seem I need to read more about Merlin. Thanks._

_Dan: his quickening is his magic. I always saw magic as manipulated energy and quickenings are energy, again from my point of view. It's just that Methos, being a Mage, can control his quickening whereas a -common- immortal cannot. Wizards, on the other hand, have the ability to call upon, and control energy that belongs to their surroundings. I hope that makes sense. I'll probably try to include an explanation later on. Another EoM lesson probably. We'll see._

_Kyer, Konniemacian, April, Anna, Shelliesnape, plutodo: thank you so much for your support for the last chapter. I can only hope I won't disappoint you._

_MarbleGlove: I bet you got bored readying this, but thank you, thank you, thank you. Got nothing else to say, I believe._

_Romilly McAran: you'll see more of Draco. In later chapters. The trio has to come back as well. I am pleased my characters meet up your expectations._

_Well, that's all folks. Till next time._


	11. Sunday 7th, Hogwarts

_**Disclaimer: **not mine. I am just borrowing them for a while._

_Long time not seen, heh? Sorry about the delay but life caught up with me. Next chapter is already somewhat written, but then again that doesn't say a lot. I am in the middle of my exams – Spring term this time – so I am not sure when I'll have it ready. _

_A huge thank you to MarbleGlove for beta-ing this for me. Hopefully you'll have more work quite soon._

_In any case I hope you enjoy_

oO0Oo_  
_

_**Sunday 10th September**_

_**Gryffindor Tower**_

"…and what about yesterday? Did you see that?"

The Gryffindor Trio was currently seated in their corner in their common room talking about all that had happened the last week. Most people were out, since today was another warm sunny day, but they had decided to remain in to have some privacy. It wasn't so much that they needed it, that what they were talking about was important enough not to be heard by others, but over the past few years they had grown close to each other and those spells of tranquillity were something to enjoy.

"No, Ron,we suddenly went blind," Harry said, rolling his eyes, as Hermione chuckled. Though he had to admit that it was weird. It was the first time he had seen Trelawney walking the grounds, and with company! That was a first in all of his years in the magical school.

"Oh, ha ha, Harry." Ron tried to keep his smile from forming. "But anyway you have to admit that Trelawney is a crazy witch. I mean, what could he possibly be thinking of walking with her? You don't suppose they…" he said his eyes rounding a bit.

"Ew, Ron! That was disgusting. Now I have to do some real work trying to erase the image from my mind," Harry said screwing his face in disgust.

"Ah! Good. Then you might consider doing the Potions' assignment that you have for Tuesday and haven't touched yet."

"Oh, man! Hermione, it's for Tuesday!" Ron protested.

"Yes, that is what I said."

"Well, we'll do it on Monday."

"Figures," Hermione muttered and went back to readying her book. She had been looking for it in the library and had managed to get the last copy available before it too was checked out. Seemed that the 'Who's who in Magical History' had become a very popular read the last few days. She had a pretty good idea why.

"So, what do you think they were doing under that tree for all that hour?" Ron continued his conversation with Harry.

"How the hell should I know?" Harry responded. "Maybe she was telling him his future."

"Nah. I don't think so," Ron replied after thinking for a bit. "I mean, they were looking pretty happy when they came out. No way was she telling him his future. How many times has she told anyone anything except great misfortunes awaiting in the near future?" the boys chuckled and even Hermione smiled a little even though she looked at Ron quite incredulous.

"You were actually watching if they smiled or not?"

"Come on, Mione, you must admit that the whole episode was quite interesting. And unusual. Even considering the Hogwarts standards for normal."

"Well, I don't know. Yes, Trelawney isn't known to come down from her tower all that often, but well, Professor Derian isn't a bad looking guy. Compared to the rest of the male teaching faculty." The two boys looked at each other, their mouths hanging slightly open and then at their friend who was back to reading her book.

"What?" Hermione looked up after a minute of silence to find the boys still looking at her.

"You think he is handsome?" Harry asked a bit startled. "He…he is old."

"Don't be stupid. He must be about the same age as Bill is," Hermione dismissed him. "In fact I wonder how come he was accepted here. He is way too young to teach."

"Well, Snape was younger when he started teaching here." Ron shrugged.

"And you know that…"

"Bill's last year here was Snape's first teaching one." Ron shrugged again.

"Oh. Still though…"

"And don't forget that it was Snape who recommended him." Harry frowned a little.

"You don't think that he might have anything to do with You-Know-Who, do you Harry?"

"I don't know. I could say that since it was Dumbledore who hired him it's ok, but to be honest I don't trust him all that much nowadays." His green eyes seemed to darken a bit, maybe in pain, maybe in something else that wasn't as obvious. Both Hermione and Ron noticed.

"Well, I wish I could say something to lessen your worry, but…" Hermione looked at the book in her lap and then back at the waiting boys. "…it says here that Derian Deofol was a Dark Lord. Sixteen centuries ago. In Wales."

"It does?" Ron picked the book from her and started readying aloud. "'_Derian Deofol, more commonly known as the Demon of Harm, lived in the mid 300s, in Wales. His dates of birth and death remains unknown. Legend has it that he could not be killed and there are eye-witnesses accounts of him healing from fatal injuries. He was also rumoured to be immune to poisons – but readers should be reminded that there is a portion of the population (both Wizards and Muggles) born with high tolerances to otherwise deadly poisons.' _Hey that's cool. Can you imagine being immune to potions? We would be able to walk into Snape's classroom with practically no worries of him trying his potion's on us." Ron said a bit dreamily.

"You know that portion is something like 0.0001 if not less of the population." Hermione told him testily. "It would be quite a coincidence if all three of us were immune, you know."

"Maybe, but you have to admit it would make things somewhat easier," Ron conceded.

"It wouldn't be difficult if you studied once in a while, Ron," She said exasperated.

"It wouldn't be difficult if that greasy bat wasn't teaching the lessons," Ron retorted his cheeks going as red as his hair.

"You can't mean that! He is the best Potions Master in England!"

"Yeah, well, he is the worst Teacher of Potions in England!"

"Erm…guys?" Harry's highly amused but quiet voice was heard while Hermione was looking for a retort.

"What?" both of them turned towards the black haired boy, eyes burning in irritation, hands in their waist, not realising they mimicked one the other.

"Err. Nothing. Go on. Don't let me interrupt you," Harry said, his palm flying to cover his mouth and stifle his laugh. His two friends lost no time in going back at each others throat. Shaking his head at their antics, Harry picked up the book from the floor where Ron had dropped it and searched through it till he found the right page. There was barely a page on the Wizard, this Dark Lord he had never heard of before. If he thought about it, to be honest, he didn't really know of many Dark Lords or GreatWizards. Their History of Magic class was mostly concerned with the Goblin wars. He only knew of three Dark Lords. And one great Mage. For how many thousand years of history? He should ask Hermione if there were more of them around.

Next to the text there was an etching of the Dark Lord. The artist had him seated on a charging black winged horse that resembled a Thestral, only its eyes were of lightening instead of blood red and it didn't seem all that cadaverous to Harry. The wizard was dressed completely in voluminous black robes that trailed behind him in the air and carried a long sword in his outstretched right gloved hand. There was nothing visible of him, but the robes. Harry imagined that no one had been crazy enough to ask the Dark Lord permission to draw a portrait of him. Only in the shadows of where his face should be there were the same lightening eyes that his mount bore. Behind him in the image the artist had him followed by dark clouds and destruction.

Harry could only stare at the image for a minute, entrancedby the lightening eyes and for a moment he felt as if he was being drawn into the image. It felt cold and rainy and he could smell the distinctive odour of ozone, like after one of the most severe thunderstorms he remembered, some years ago. He thought he heard the mount huffing as its rider pulled on its bridle to stop their descend from nowhere. For that moment Harry was almost certain he could see a pale face underneath the hood. Eyes flashing from the shadows, the rider's hood was about to fall back, allowing him to see the face Harry was certain he knew, was certain he had seen before. Then the moment was rudely interrupted by one of the chair pillows hitting him on the shoulder.

It seemed that Ron and Hermione had begun fighting in earnest.

"And they thought these two would make good Prefects?" Harry said to no one in particular, as he watched his two friends shouting and throwing pillows at each other, both laughing, sweating,and red cheeked. Ah, so Hermione likes Snape. Harry chuckled when he heard that particular one coming from Ron. He certainly had the ability to imagine the worst case scenario, Ron.

Shaking his head he went back to his book, occasionally looking about him for any other incoming pillow.

'…_otherwise deadly Poisons. Derian Deofol arose sometime in the mid 300s – though the exact date is not certain. He is thought to have held a grudge against the royalty in Wales, and he is known to have killed many of the government representatives. The reader should be reminded that at the time muggles were aware of wizards, even though with the invasion of the Christian Religion they were already becoming hated and feared. Derian Deofol is believed to have been after the Governor of Wales himself –at the time the British Isles still being under Roman dominion. Surviving records are unclear on how this governor died and thus whether the Dark Lord succeeded in his quest or not.Derian Deofol's reasons also remain unknown. Historians are fairly certain that the Dark Lord had few if any followers.That he managed on his own to throw the entirety of Wales into chaos in just three short years, indicate that he was a resourceful man, a great strategist, and a brilliant mind. _

_Derian Deofol disappears from written history about five years after his appearance. Members of the Historical Community_ _continue to debate whether he achieved his goal or was defeated. _

_Historians agree that he didn't differentiate between muggles or wizards. While generally considered a Dark Lord, he was seen by many – particularly peasants and serfs – as a kind of benefactor._

_Derian Deofol is thought to be Welsh, though no credible family tree was ever proposed at the time or since. There are no known sketches of him, but one of his victims managed to describe him before dying. Based on her written record, the image reproduced on the following page was drawn by an unknown artist in the 11th century. It was given as a present to Lord Slytherin.'_

Harry smirked at that bit of information. Trust a Dark Lord to be given a portrait of another Dark Lord as a present. Then his mind went back to his very enigmatic EoM Professor. So how come he had the name of a long dead Dark Lord? And his views on ethics seemed a bit loose to him, if he were to be honest. Voldemort providing them with a valuable lesson! Ha! It was simply preposterous. Though Remus hadn't think so, when he told him of the strange lesson. Only Remus' brown eyes narrowed in thought, as if he was figuring something,as if he understood something. Well, what ever it was,the DADA professor hadn't been inclined to tell him. Sometimes he really did hate the adults. Who did they think they were not trusting him with-

"Ok, that is enough!" he yelled as he struggled to get up from the floor. The pillow had come out of nowhere while he was absorbed in his thoughts. It was time he took his revenge, he thought as he picked it up and went after his two laughing friends, who were already trying to apologise. They weren't doing so well, as it was obvious they were having too much fun at his expense. That wouldn't do, he thought as he charmed the pillow to attack and keep attacking a fleeting Ron. That wouldn't do at all.

_SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS_

I don't know how long I have been standing here. Outside this wall that I know hides the entrance to his quarters. To our new Ethics of Magic Professor's quarters. I was surprised when Severus offered to give the new Professor these rooms, instead of having him living in the old Professor's quarters. He, just as most of the previous Slytherin Heads of House, rarely opens the Slytherin tower for anyone. It's almost taboo. Only Slytherins are accepted in the Slytherin part of the Castle. Which is the biggest one, if one was to speak the truth. Not many know this, especially among the students, but all three levels of the dungeons and the North Tower are considered Slytherin territory. Not that the students would know that there are three levels of dungeons.

I wonder, as I have many times in the past wondered – especially when I spent my time here – why this is. Why the castle is still divided among the four houses. After one thousand years, one would have thought that the lines dividing the houses would have been diffused. But, alas, that is not the case.

The wall before me suddenly shimmers and there is a heavy oak door where before were only stones. This cues me into the fact that the Professor knows I am loitering outside quite incapable ofdeciding whether I should knock or not.

I believe he just decided for me.

I knock and enter the moment the door swings open.

"Professor Lupin, what a pleasant surprise. Please have a seat. Would you like some tea?"

Of course it comes as no surprise to him that I wanted to talk to him in private. He probably wanted to talk to me as well, but for some reason he never did the past week. It could be he was trying to get used to the school, or maybe he me to approach him. I don't know.

"Yes, thank you. And it is Remus," I say and walk towards the offered armchair. I can't help but look around as he makes his way towards me from his office.

I've never seen the rooms in the Slytherin Tower. They were always locked with the most powerful of locking charms, and back then, when we **- **the Marauders** -** used to roam the school, none of us had been able to find a way in. I always found it rather peculiar how, whenever we would try,something would always interrupt us. Be that a ghost or Peeves, or a Professor walking randomly around, or even a bunch of Slytherins who took a wrong turn without realising. We didn't realise then either that this was the doing of the Magic of the Castle.

The Snakes always guarded their ways and secrets from the eyes of those that did not belong to their House. We had no right to be there, young Gryffindors as we were, and the Castle knew it.

I wonder if it feedsonmagic from us, Hogwarts. Sometimes it feels too alive for a mere castle.

"As you like," He says, amused that I look around as a first year entering for the first time the most famous magic school in Great Britain. But this is a lovely room, and one of those that were forbidden to us** -** and still are, to be honest.

It is round, following the shape of the tower, with huge windows, going from the floor all the way to the ceiling, overlooking the Lake and the Forrest in the North. The couches and the low table - a set of china appears with a swish of his wand - are just next to these windows, between them and the round fireplace that is located perfectly in the centre of the room. I wonder if Severus' rooms look like this. I've never been allowed into them and I doubt if anyone else, besides maybe the Headmaster and some of his Slytherins, has either.

Huge libraries begin where the windows end, on either side, allowing only two gaps where two doors exist. One is the entrance to the rooms, the other most likely leads to his bed chambers, but perhaps somewhere else as well. His desk of dark ebony wood sits in front of one part of the library, filled with so many papers that I wonder were he finds place to do any work. My interest though is captured by two big white boxes that sit one on his desk the other below it, connected with some kind of cords. I have an inkling that these shouldn't be here.

"Just say want kind of tea you want and how you want it. It'll do the rest." He eyes are set in a peculiar expression that reminds me too much of a child ready to do some mischief. At least he doesn't realise that I haven't been paying all that much attention to him.

"Earl Grey. One spoon of sugar." I do as he requests and I can't quite hide my surprise when the china pot grows legs and walks to a tea-cup to pour hot streaming water into it that turns the red-brown colour of my chosen tea. The moment this is done another cup walks over and using miniature hands puts a spoon of sugar in the tea-cup and stirs it! When it is obvious it feels it is ready the tea-cup walks over to the edge of the table and silently waits for me to pick it up. As I do just that,I say in wonder, "now, I believe this is the first time I've seen such a set."

"Yes, isn't it great? Got the idea from Disney's 'The Beauty and the Beast'." He seems very satisfied with himself and ready to clap in excitement. Just like a child. "Strange if you think about it, I haven't seen the movie in ages."

"I assume this is a Muggle movie you are talking about." I am also smiling as I watch the china preparing a second tea-cup – 'Jasmine, no sugar please'. It is quite wondrous what those muggles can come up with. It is as if their inability to do magic increases their ability to imagine all kinds of magic that we would never think of. I think I might take a leaf out of his book and charm me tea-china to do the same trick. It is quite fun.

"I wasn't aware that there were Wizarding ones," Derian says as he sips his tea.

"That is probably because there aren't," I concede. "I hope you had no problems settling." I ask after some moments of silence, just so that I would say something. Looking around me the answer is quite obvious. The man looks, his rooms look, like he's been living here for ever.

"Yes. Hogwarts accepted me with no complaints. I even managed to get my computer up and working." He smiles at my discomfort and I find I don't particularly like this. This man seems to be able to read me very well. I wonder how come Severus is friends with him. Severus is a very private person. I've heard a score of times Dumbledore muttering and complaining about his secretive ways.

"Computer?" I ask rather confusedly, though something tells me…

"Muggle thing. Don't worry about it." Yup, he points to the big white metal boxes that are seated on his desk. I thought that might be. Wait, did I just think theword "yup"? Damn students influencing me with their speech patterns.

"Oh…ok." I sip my tea, trying to order my thoughts. Unfortunately my eyes seem to wonder around the room of this most peculiar of wizards, quite uncontrolled, which only reminds me... "You've made quite some impact within the student body, not to mention the other Professors."

"I doubt it is all good," he says, and it is obvious that he knows only too well that there are certain people that don't like his curriculum all that much. Truth to be told, though, he doesn't really seem to have a curriculum.

"No, I do not believe it is," I agree with him. What's the point of trying to flatter a person that will clearly see what or why I am doing it. "The students for the most part find you aninteresting mystery and are willing to pay attention, at least most of them, but the Professors... Well it seems we are divided. Some think that teaching the children that there are no boundaries in magic is rather unethical."

"And what do you think?"

"I think, I do not have the right to judge whether what you do is right or wrong. Only to ask why." I command my eyes to rise from the dark blue carpet, to stare at his green ones.

"Ah. So, what do you know already?"

"Not much." If he thought I'd be surprised at his focusing on the matter he will be disappointed. "I know that you are more than a wizard. The lore of my kind would have me believe that you are of the Aiweins, Those that Last Forever. The myths of the Wizards would identify you as a mage. Others, others would call you immortal." How do I manage to keep my voice so soft? I feel anything but calm. "I can only feel the power and the truth that rings in those words. After the year I spent here, three years ago, I felt the change in Severus. He always felt differently, how can I put it…more powerful, more…I don't know. But last time I met him…the feeling was so strong all I could do was stare him. He felt ageless."

"He is. As am I." Derian nods in acceptance. I find that I am irritated that he understands what I mean when I can't comprehend what I am really saying "Not that we don't age, it is just not physically apparent. With your heightened senses you can easily pick this up," he explains.

"They can't feel you then? The others?"

"No. Wizards, for all their powers, have the tendency to overlook such things. It is best this way."

"So I suppose you don't want this…predicament of yours to be widely known, huh?" he looks at me with very serious eyes all of the sudden. I feel my body tense and my hairs rise as the wolf inside me senses something dangerous. Something very dangerous indeed.

"Do you have any idea what would happen if anyone found out what we are?" he asks me and I think I don't want to know the answer. "You are a werewolf and a wizard and they shun you…"

"Because they believe I am dangerous."

"You are." I close my eyes hearing the truth coming from him. I know I am. Thirteen times per year I am very dangerous. My fellow men become my hunt and I cannot control it. "They believe that you are a magical creature more than you are a man, don't they?" I can only nod. "And they are right, for that is what you think of yourself also. You also don't take pride in the fact that you are a werewolf."

"How could I?" I ask bewildered. "I am a monster, I kill uncontrollably and I enjoy it! How can they think me of anything other that a creature, a danger to them?"

"But you are what you are." He is rubbing the inside of his wrist and I am somehow reminded of Severus when he too, sometimes, absentminded rubs the inside of his arm when Voldemort or his Death Eaters are mentioned. He is a marked man, Severus. But what is Derian's excuse? "If you find yourself in a situation you cannot change, why not embrace it? Why not take pride in it?"

Is he mad?

"I am a murder! What is there to be proud of?"

"No. You are a Werewolf. You are a hunter. It is your right to hunt your prey that one night, as of course it is their right to protect themselves from you. What are you feeling guilty for? There is no fault in existence, even if that existence is dangerous I agree, you are dangerous, but then again so are they to you. And they, making you feel lesser than them? That is unacceptable and you are stupid to have fallen for such a futile attempt to render you harmless to them. Because you'll never be. Humans do have the tendency to fear what they do not understand. Kill first and ask questions later."

Huh. No wonder why Severus likes him.

"They are my friends." I try to…what? Defend them? Sadly I wonder, deep down, if he is right.

"That is your problem." He replies. "I wonder, do you have a pack?"

"A what?"

"You know, do you belong to some pack of Werewolves or other."

"I…I've live closed to humans for most of my life."

"I'll take that as a no, then." He smiles and stares out of the window.

"So, how did you meet Severus?" I ask him. There is something here that is not right, but I am not quite certain.

"He apparated in front of me, in London, bleeding to death from a stab wound. Well, he did die then." I stare at him open mouthed. "1979 it was. I knew he was trouble since then."

"But you would have been what? Eight years old at the time?" he turns around, an amused smile playing in his lips, his eyes sparkling like mad.

"I see his story holds. Good."

"You mean it is not true?" I don't think it true. Harry…what he told me of his lectures…of how he thinks and what he believes…maybe just maybe Derian isn't as young…but…but what I think…that can't be true either.

"Listen, Remus. Before I answer this I need to know where I stand with you."

"What do you mean?" I know what he means. But I want to hear him say it aloud as well.

"I knew you were a Werewolf without any one telling me, just as you knew what Severus and I are. We _are_ magical creatures, to use such crass terminology. We recognise each other and we keep the secret from those that are a potential danger to us. Your secret is up, so I cannot threaten you with that. At the moment, when it comes to information control you have the upper hand."

"Something tells me that you are not that worried about this." I snort.

"I will admit I have my ways to do damage control. But I'd rather not to have to do it."

"Why are you here?" I believe that this is the question that has been bothering me most of all.

"I am here because a student of mine requested assistance finishing what he wasn't able to 16 years ago." He tells me and suddenly the power I can feel coming from him intensifies, building around him. I find my self rendered quite speechless. I can feel power, I can feel how strong someone is, its part of my Werewolf heritage, part of what makes me so inhuman. I can feel the basic emotions as I am half Wolf. And he, Derian, feels…more powerful than even Dumbledore. More powerful than Severus. And I can only sense determination coming from him. And danger. The Wolf inside me warns me of some dark creature, of someone that has spilled blood and reveled in it. After 40 years I'd be a fool not to trust the Wolf. He tells me to fear him and trust him, though I have no idea how can one do both at the same time.

"You are older than him." I state a fact. I know it and he knows it. The power is once more restrained, hidden under layers of protective walls and lies.

"Far older than him. Severus is one of my students," he admits, his eyes momentarily sparkling lightenings before that power too is constrained. "He asked me to come here to help. And so I will."

"How old are you?" I suppose this is an obvious question for he smiles a little.

"Let's just say that this castle was young when I was old."

"You were Derian Deofol?" I don't really want this assumption to be true but…well, thinking it now, as the man bows his head slightly, eyes laughing, I can't help but berate my self for my stupidity. I knew this man was an Aiwein. I should have felt he was old – though it seems he can hide it – I should have guessed the truth the moment his name was uttered. "But he was a Dark Lord!"

"So?"

"So, how…how can you come in here if you are a Dark Lord? Exactly what does Snape need your help in? Kill Dumbledore? Help the Dark Lord in his quest for immortality?" I find my self on my feet while the man in front me still sits, looking at me, unreadable.

"No. I wouldn't destroy the school if I could help it." But what if he can't? "And I am far too old to care about your petty struggles. Light fighting Darkness is an unending fight. Kill Voldemort, another man will come forth. Destroy Dumbledore, you don't diminish the light's powers."

"What are you doing here then?"

"As I said, I am here to help Severus. _We_, as you should know from your lore and legends, only care about balance. And _I_ only care about myself. I am here to help Severus because I think not to do so would inconvenience me in the future."

"That must be the most selfish thing I've ever heard." I manage to stammer after a few moments of silence. "You don't care about all those that are killed? Or tortured because they are simply different? As you are?"

"And what makes you think that I haven't been killed or tortured? I've walked this world for over a thousand years and I've seen things you wouldn't dream off. I've done things that would make even you, as a werewolf, look harmless in comparison." And now he is standing up, walking towards me as I find myself retreating, trying to put as much distance between us as I possibly can. "I've come to understand one think, Remus. The world never stays the same and yet we do. Situations are different but I've seen them repeating again and again and again. So no, I don't care for all those who die. I don't know them, I can't feel for them, they are not my family, my friends, my pack. They are not even my people.

"But Severus is. And I will help him, knowing very well that whatever he chooses to do will be undone at some time in the future. If light wins, how long before the next Dark Lord, maybe one even more terrible comes forth? If the Dark prevails, well it won't be the first or the last time. This too shall pass. Words to live by, werewolf.

"Things come and go and the most important thing to me is to be here, alive to live through them."

His eyes are gold and cruel. I hadn't noticed before. He stands mere inches away from me and I find that I am against one of his bookshelves, perfectly trapped, even though I have no idea how that came to be. And I am terrified.

Terrified because I know that from his perspective he must be right. If he's lived for more that a thousand years I can't even begin to imagine how many people he befriended maybe even loved and cared about died as the inevitable day came and they had to pay the price for their lives with their death.

Terrified because I can't think of a way this man could be stopped, this man whose only fault is his desire to live.

Terrified because in the end I don't know what Snape is going to ask him to do.

"I…I could tell them. I could have you both out of here," I tell him and I immediately regret it. His eyes are devoid of life, his smile has no warmth and when he speaks his voice is so cold I shudder.

"You could. Tell them, the light side, that they have two Mages in their midst. What will they do? Hunt us down? Kill us?" His laugh is the most cruel sound I've ever heard. "We. Cannot. Be. Killed." he says very slowly. "And what will you do then Werewolf? When we come back to life? When we have a grudge against you? Against the wizarding kind? You are afraid of Voldemort? Imagine…Imagine what would happen if Severus or I were to become the champions of Darkness. If we destroyed the balance of powers. It wouldn't be all that difficult. I've done it before. I've turned the scales on many a war, werewolf…"

"Derian? Lupin? What is going on in here?" I jump at the sound of the new voice. My eyes fly over to the door where Snape is standing, a bit hesitant as to what he should do, as to what the situation is. Derian doesn't bat an eye. Neither does he move.

"That is what will happen if you tell them." He speaks so that only I can hear him. "You do not want us as your enemy." He leans back and the man before me is no more the terrifying Dark Lord, but simply a Professor of Hogwarts. He turns and moves away from me as he moves back to his chair.

"Well?" Snape is obviously rather agitated and impatient.

"Nothing, Severus. We just had a talk," Derian says and the Potion's Master turns his inquisitive stare on me.

"We had certain matters that needed to be cleared." I agreed. "All is settled now." And one thing is for sure, I need to keep an eye on these two somehow. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen…" I take my leave, as Snape – the student, not the teacher – enters the rooms.

"Feel free to come here whenever you want anything," Derian offers and my last image of him before the door closes is him drinking his tea, smiling as if we just had the most friendly talk in the world and all was okay.

But all is not okay.

It is difficult to trust men that only act for their own benefit. Even if they maybe right in the end.

oO0Oo

_Hope you liked it people. A big thank you to all those who reviewed. Please do so again, and let my delay not affect you in doing so. Till next time._


	12. Sunday 7th, Headmaster's Office

_**Disclaimer: **if the characters and their existence belonged to me, you wouldn't be readying these stories here, would you know?_

_Hey people. Sorry for the slight delay – you've been waiting for more than a month now so what were a few more days? – but I had a slight problem a part of this chapter and had to consult me beta twice. But now it is solved, thanks to MarbleGlove and here you go: Snape returns…_

oO0O0o

**Sunday 7th September**

**Hogwarts**

**Headmaster's Office**

Dumbledore stared at the man before him. The man before him just stared atthe bright sky from the huge windows, the cup of tea he hadbeen offered and was holding, slowly going cold. The Headmaster sighed and took off his spectacles, tiredly rubbing his eyes. This boy would be the death of him. He just knew.

"I was worried, Severus." He said finally, when the silence was just too much for him to bear.

"I sent you a message." The dark man stated. Dumbledore sighed again. He had indeed.

"_The Dark Lord requested I stay here for the weekend, SS," _he read aloud from a parchment he held in his hands. "That was simply not enough."

"It was all I could do," Snape answered.

"Where was 'here', anyway?" Dumbledore asked for what probably was the thousandth time, since the boy had been accepted back into the fold.

"I don't know." The usual answer, Dumbledore rolled his eyes. "It's unplotable."

"But surely you must have seen something outside a window. Something that could give us a clue. Something to lead us there." Snape turned to look directly into the Headmaster's very blue, very still eyes.

"Once I was passing in front of a window in a corridor. The Sun was setting. I could see the Sun setting form that window. The next time I was there I looked outside the same window and there were trees. Trees and blue sky. Yet I knew that is was time the Sun should be setting. There was no Sun. Another time I could see the night sky. Pisces was raising slowly from behind some far away mountains. Pisces rise just before the Sun does, in the east. And previously there had been no mountains."

"I see," came the reply after long momentsin which the Headmaster just stared at him quite stunned. "What is that place?" Snape could not hide a smirk. There were not many things that surprised Dumbledore and it was always satisfying to see him so because of something he did or said.

Snape turned back looking outside, towards the window, lookingat the sky. The Forbidden Forrest that scarcely held any secrets from him nowadays. Fifteen years he had been wandering in there. The Forrest had accepted him as one of hers.

"So, why did he want you to stay for the weekend?" Dumbledore broke though the silence once more, this time eliciting a sigh from the younger wizard. The Headmaster could only think that there had been times, other times, many years ago, when the man hadn't needed all that much prodding to tell him about his meetings with the Dark Lord. Things were different now, though. The boy seemed almost hesitant to speak.

"He felt I needed some time to myself." Dumbledore's eyebrows shot to his hairline.

"He thought you needed some time to yourself." He repeated dubiously. Snape just snorted.

"I believe that is what I said."

"Since when does Voldemort care what you need?" That was obviously the wrong thing to say. His Potions Master inhaled a deep breath and stiffened, while his eyes narrowed dangerously, his black eyes throwing daggers at the Headmaster.

"Since it became apparent that you don't," the man snapped. Dumbledore's face clouded.

"Now, that was unfair, Severus. You know very well that I do care for you very much." And thesad truth was that he really did. This dark child had captivated his mind, his thoughts since the very first day he had laid eyes on him, all those years back, when he had just become a Headmaster and the boy had just begun his days as a student here. But his words only brought a sneer on the man's face.

"Unfair. You think that was unfair? I know exactly how much you value my life. Less than a stupid child's that should never had been involved in this story in the first place, less than a werewolf's, less than a murderer's. In fact you think so highly of me, that you find the mere notion of the Dark Lord's worry over my person impossible. You think that is fair to me?" the man snarled, each of his words a stab in the older wizard's heart.

"Severus…I know I've erred before when it came to you, but…"

"But what? Headmaster, lets not hide behind false words or pretences." Snape was looking at him with a strange glint in his eyes. "You and I both know, that had I not offered you such a great chance of having someone so close to the Dark Lord I'd havebeen rotting in Azkaban for a while now. You care for me as long as I am useful to you. When my usefulness is over I can't help but wonder what will you do with me?"

"Severus, you are being unjust," the Headmaster said, soft traces of anger colouring his voice. "I don't keep you here just because you are useful to me, though I will not deny, that had you not offered to spy for me and you had been caught, I wouldn't have tried to save you. But you are special, Severus, and when Voldemort is defeated you know you can do what ever you want."

"What if I want to go away?" the wizard demanded.

"Then I will be saddened to loose you, but I will bid you farewell and good luck on whatever it is you chose to go after."

"What if I wanted to leave now?"

"Now, Severus?" The headmaster looked at him very carefully. "And go where my boy? The Dark Lord will be after you. There is no place safe for you until he is defeated, Severus, and we need your help to do that."

"The mark, the bond is lost when the one who bears it dies," Snape whispered.

"You are not going to die." The immediate reply startled the younger wizard. He hadn't realised he had spoken the words aloud. He hadn't meant to, Dumbledore could see.

"No, I cannot," Snape agreed, a soft smile playing on his lips, considering the irony of the matter.

"So, Severus. What happened during the weekend?"

"Nothing much. Or maybe much happened but I wouldn't know about it. I was there to rest, remember? The Dark Lord saw to it that I was undisturbed."

"You did nothing?"

"I didn't say that," The man snapped again. "But what I did had nothing to do with either of the Orders." Dumbledore looked at the boy speculatively.

"You are hiding something from me,"he said finally. That won him a small amused laugh from the other wizard.

"Only something?" Severus snorted.

"What did Voldemort do to you?" Dumbledore demanded.

"Nothing," Snape replied. "He did absolutely nothing. He spent some time with me, we talked over philosophies and history and books, he spoke of the earlier years and walked around a bit."

"The Dark Lord discussed history and philosophy with you?" the Headmaster was incredulous again.

"Why, Headmaster, I do read topics other than Potions related," Snape said sarcastically. "And yes, the Dark Lord is actually a very good conversationalist and knows quite a bit about philosophy."

"Forgive me Severus, but that is not what usually happens to your meetings," Dumbledore said a bit confused and rather amazed.

"He wants me to quit." The words were very softly spoken and Dumbledore almost missed them.

"Pardon?"

"He wants me to quit." Snape sighed. "To leave Hogwarts."

"But why?" Dumbledore was worried. "Does he suspect you of spying?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Though what he said to me was that my talents were being wasted here, teaching a bunch of ungrateful little buggers. He said that were I to leave Hogwarts he would make sure I had duties better suited to me and my abilities."

"Like what? Brewing poisons day and night?" the Headmaster asked sarcastically. Snape raised an eyebrow.

"He does not think me only capable of brewing, Headmaster," he said, pride colouring his voice. That worried Dumbledore. He knew his spy wasn't one of the most ethical persons around. He knew that the man had been betrayed by both sides in the first war and he had returned the favour with equal fervour. It seemed that this time around the battle of where his loyalties would end up lying was still undecided.

"I see. And what do you think Severus?"

"Me?" Snape actually sounded surprised to be asked that. As if Dumbledore wouldn't allow him to have a say in the way he led his own life. Which to be fair, in the end he really didn't. "I enjoy teaching, Headmaster. Not in the current situation," he added fast when Dumbledore opened his mouth obviously to say something against that, "Most of the time classes are about politics instead of knowledge and I do not care for that. Neither do I enjoy the continuousinterference and ludicrous restrictions from the Ministry on what I should be teaching."

"I have it on good authority that you don't exactly follow the Ministry regulations, Severus," Dumbledore pointed out. Snape shrugged.

"Be that as it may, it's not a bad proposition."

"You want to leave?"

"For quite some time. But I cannot. Not yet." He had still a part to play amidst all this. If there was a time for him to disappear it had been fifteen years ago. But he was younger then. He had just lost his teacher, the one person he considered as family. And all because of his mistakes. Now, this time, he had to make sure things unfolded the way they should. Even though he still wondered if the way things were leading to was the correct one.

"I see," Dumbledore said again. Snape smirked thinking that the Headmaster's vocabulary had shrunk quite a bit. "Well, then, my boy. You best go get ready for the week, if that is all. We will deal with this matter when it comes. When do you have to give an answer?"

"Headmaster, you are under the impression it was a request?" Snape said sarcastically.

"Well, you said yourself it is a nice proposition. Not to mention that Voldemort seems to be rather worried about your welfare."

"I see." Snape rolled his eyes when he realised he copied the Headmaster in his choice of words. "It was an order. I am to give you my resignation within the week, on whatever grounds I may think of, and allow you the time you need to find someone else to take my place. He would like the whole matter to be solved by the end of Christmas holidays."

"That is unacceptable Severus." Dumbledore shook his head. "I cannot allow you leave Hogwarts, as you very well know."

"I thought you said you would bid me farewell and good luck," The young wizard said satirically, implyingthat he should have known better than to ever consider a promise coming from Gryffindor's mouth being kept.

"After all this ends, my boy. Till then, I need you."

"Even if that means my death?" no answer was given as the seconds passed in silence, neither of them daring to look the other. "I see." The young wizard got up from his chair. "Tell me, Headmaster," he stopped just before the door "why should I endanger my life for people who will never accept me as one of their own? Why should I surrender my friend's lives to people who wouldn't think it twice before taking mine with the same ease they would kill a fly?"

"You asked me the same questions when you first cam to me." Dumbledore reminiscedabout those days after he had found out who the man was who was sending him all the inside information,saving countless innocent people.

"You said that it what the right think to do."

"It still is."

"And therein lays your problem, Headmaster. I never believed you right."

"Then why did you do it?" Dumbledore asked as his spy opened the door to leave.

"It was fun."

The aging Headmaster stared the door for countless minutes in disbelief after Snape had left. That was an answer he had never thought possible ofthe man. A reason he had never thought could be behind all the brave acts of this man overthe years. And now the same man threatened to leave the grounds. No, that wouldn't do at all.

ooO0Ooo

Snape cursed as he walked towards his rooms. For the life of him he couldn't understand why he said that to the Headmaster. Not that is wasn't the truth, but it was only a piece of it. The Headmaster, typical Gryffindor that he was, would never realise that. _It was fun._ Well, it had been. Playing the great Albus Dumbledore with so much ease. Paying him back for all that the Headmaster had done to him. Poetic justice that the dark, evil, nasty,little boy, rumoured to be already within the clutches of the Dark Lord would actually help the Great Albus Dumbledore, asking for nothing, no fame or money or power, unlike most others had they been in his position. Being braver than any of the man's Gryffindors would ever be, having no one to guide him but himself.

He had become invaluable to the Headmaster. That same little boy whose life had weighted less than a Gryffindors, less than a real monster's.

It had been fun. It had been his revenge, to look at the man's eyes and see always, always the guilt that resided there, of a man that had pushed him away from the light that had sacrificed him for the other stupid little boys – like Black or Pettigrew. And in the end he had proven stronger than they. More 'light' than they.

It had been fun.

It was fun no more.

This time around he didn't feel he had to take his revenge on any one. All who had sinnedagainst him were dead, and he had extracted his revenge on the Headmaster completely. He had even begun to respect him, some years ago, and even see him as a friend. And then Harry Potter came and he was cruelly reminded again just how little he was valued. For years he had fought to bring the Slytherin House to the same pedestal the other three Houses occupied. For years he had tried and succeeded to have his Slytherins trust him, to have those children, his children, open their eyes and see the world for what it was, not what their parents or their mates or their teachers told them to see. To have them realise that the House of Slytherin was not a harbour for evil, a nest of nightmares and fears. It was a proud House. A House of survivors, of men and women not afraid of the power of magic, who did not care about boundaries but knew how to use the power that had been bestowed on them, properly.

It had been very difficult, but he had done it. More and more of his students were now highly acclaimed members of society, powerful Wizards and Witches that knew change was inevitable but thatit didn't have to mean the loss of what was most dear and valuable to them as the older generations, his generation had believed.

That some of them would follow the Dark Lord, he had no doubt. But he hoped, he hoped that many more would simply remain neutral. This was not a war they had to get involved with. They were shunned from the 'light' side anyway, just by being in Slytherin, but he had tried to tell them that this didn't mean the Dark Lord was their only choice.

Severus Snape had decided a long time ago which side should win the war.

The Gryffindor House had to loose some of its prestige and Slytherins needed to come out unscathed. Very difficult but seeing as the Gryffindors had managed to turn this into a fight between them and the Dark Lord, keeping the Houses of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff pretty much aside, it could happen. It was strange that the war was fought like this. The war that had its base in the removal of the unwanted muggle born wizards and witches was fought among the pure bloods of the community. And it all began from Hogwarts.

The damned school was what created the alliances and divided people. Some, some did manage to see beyond that, but the affiliation with a House passed from parent to child in a seemingly unending cycle.

_Destroy the school_.

The thought was sudden and unexpected. Severus Snape stopped in the middle of the hallway, his eyes a little wide. Destroy the school. Destroy the place where all these feelings all these beliefs were nurtured instead of destroyed. Surely it wouldn't come to that. Maybe if they burned the Hat it would be enough. Maybe they should simply allocate the students randomly in the four Houses. Maybe they should create more Houses or simply rename them, recreate them, severing all the bonds with the Four most esteemed, most stupid Wizards of all time.

Maybe that would be enough.

Severus Snape was not stupid. He knew perfectly well that whoever won the war, the rest would hold a grudge. Who ever won the war, wouldn't interrupt the cycle one bit.

"Professor Snape, are you ok?" The young voice had deepened a lot in the past few years. Its owner none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Mister Malfoy," Snape acknowledged him.

"Only you seemed to stand there for quite sometime and I wondered…" the boy's eyes held real worry for him, Snape nodded, quite pleased. His Slytherins knew who took care of them for seven years in their life.

"I am perfectly alright Mr. Malfoy. I simply had a sudden revelation that, as you observed, left me quite startled." He smiled tightly to the boy and resumed his walking.

"Really, sir? What kind of a revelation? Did you manage to eradicate the side effects of that potion you are brewing?" The young Slytherin walked beside him. Snape knew that Draco didn't try to flatter him, as most of the students and Professors from the other Houses thought. The boy was interested in his work for other reasons.

"No, unfortunately my thoughts were rather more mundane than that." Snape smirked.

Had he found a way to sidestep that little problem in his potion, chances are he would be hoping around the castle like a madman rather than simply standing immobile. It would indeed be a great day when he managed to nullify said side effects and produce a working potion against porphyria. Up until now his potion, better than the rest available in the market, still only worked for a limited time period and had the nasty side effect that it would turnfemalesa vibrant shade of purple and cause them to break out in bloody hives. He sighed. Women were always far more complicated organisms and he still hadn't figured a way to extend the potion to the more slender gender.

He knew it was only a matter of time till he found the solution, but what with the demands of all these people around him, he simply hadn't found the time yet to really sit down and think about it. Though the visit he paid his library back home, these two days, might prove benefactory. He certainly had copied quite a lot of material to study in his own time. And maybe he could borrow some of these books Mich-Derian had offered hi. Yes, maybe that would help.

"Sir?" Draco Malfoy was still next to him. Snape swore under his breath. He had only needed someone to remind him of the potion and he had submerged himself so much in his thoughts he had stopped paying attention to hissurroundings.

"Yes, mister Malfoy?"

"Err…I just wonder if you realise you are moving towards the Hufflepuff tower, sir. You did a bit of a circle back there, sir." Draco had a simple smile on his face, Snape noticed when he stopped and looked around.

"So I did," He allowed, noting that Draco somehow seemed amused rather than mocking. But that shouldn't and didn't come as a surprise. "Would you walk with me, then, mister Malfoy? Seems my mind is unwilling to concentrate enough and I really wouldn't want to find my self in the middle of the Gryffindor common room without realising it." His student chuckled.

"But, sir, imagine the terror in their faces when they see you there!" Snape smirked.

"It would be a sight, I agree, but then I would have to offer a reason for being there and I would probably end up having a student for detention. As much as I enjoy Weasley or Potter cleaning caldrons I very much prefer an afternoon in the company of certain most agreeable people." Not to mention what he would hear from Minerva.

"Indeed sir. Though not all of them are so bad." Thathad the Potions Professor rising an eyebrow.

"Really? Do tell mister Malfoy. Who in their midst has caught your fancy?" Snape was glad when they reached his office and he took down the wards to allow him and his student to enter. "It wouldn't be a certain Know-It-All, would it?" he asked, a little bit of trepidation in his voice, as that could mean hell for the boy, if his father found out, be he in prison or not at the moment. Not to mention the Dark Lord. He motioned Draco on one of the chairs by the fire while he sat opposite him. "Some tea, perhaps?"

"Yes, sir, thank youDraco replied with an easy smile now that no one was around to see either of them. Snape called a House elf and asked for some tea and biscuits.

"So, mister Malfoy. I believe you were about to tell me of a certain amore you have?" Snape said with what probably was a kind smile on his lips. Or maybe a satisfied one. Draco just sipped his tea for a few seconds before answering the question.

"Not Granger, sir." He said finally. Snape was sadly relieved.

"I see."

"Not because she is a muddbl-err…I mean muggle born sir," Draco corrected his slip rather poorly. It was understood that before their Head of House they wouldn't be able to say such words, for he was obligated to take points from them. "Not that I am fond of them or anything, it's just the way it is." Snape nodded in understanding. It was the way they were born. He might be able to reduce their hatred against Muggles and Muggle-borns but that didn't mean he could – or would – have them forging serious relationships of friendships with them. He wasn't asking for a miracle. He was very slowly working for one. Though the Headmaster did make it ridiculously hard at times. "And, in any case, she is just not my type." Draco shrugged.

"What do you mean?" Snape raised an eyebrow in question. He wasn't particularly interested, but it was his job, or rather he made it his job to know what his students wanted and how they thought. He literally learned these children inside and out. It was easiest this way.

"Well, she does have a nice body. Draco blushed a bit. For someone who didn't really care for Granger he sure did look a lot. "And she is bright, but…she is much too loud." He finished.

"Loud?"

"Yes. You know…how she always wants to prove she is the best, how she made herself the teachers' pet, well not yours but…"

"I know, mister Malfoy "Snape agreed.

"I mean I can be a prick and arrogant and loud and all that but mostly it _is_ just an act." He looked in his teacher's eyes to search for what he hoped to find there. Understanding, acceptance. He wasn't disappointed. "I act the way people expect me to act. She acts the way she is. And I simply do not like the way she is."

"True, mister Malfoy," Snape admitted, thinking of the Gryffindor witch when she was just eleven and had not known she had to prove better that pure-blooded wizards. And yet she had tried to do so. "But I hope you realise that as the years passed she became what the circumstances forged her into."

"As all of us do, sir," Draco noted. "I do wonder though why she wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw or even Slytherin. Sometimes Gryffindor seems so wrong for her."

"I'll say. Yet there have been instances where her bravery…"

"Bravery has nothing to do with the House of Gryffindor," Draco interrupted him. Snape simply raised an eyebrow, knowing his student would soon elaborate. "You can find incredibly brave people among us Slytherins as well. There are many of us who would sacrifice our lives for what is important enough. And that is the difference between the two Houses. Well one of them anyway." Both of them snorted slightly. "They will sacrifice their lives for whatever they think will make them look good. They do what they think is better for their image, what is 'right' in the eyes of the majority. We do what is best for us, our families. They'll rush into anything without thinking of the consequences. We do things after much thought. Granted, we are not always right, but then again neither are they."

"Very well put, Draco," Snape said rather proud of his student. He knew that for most of his children the future wasn't going to be an easy one, seeing what kind of choices they had to make. "I hope you will not think me of a single way minded man, but I am curious. Who is-"

"Weasley," Draco interrupted him. And stunned him. Left him speechless was probably a better description.

"Weasley?"

"Ginevra Weasley, Draco elaborated.

"I see." Snape sat back and drank some of his tea. Now this was interesting. "And have you gauged her feelings on the matter? If indeed she is aware of the matter?"

"No, Professor. She seems quite taken with Dean Thomas at the moment, though I suppose it's is better than when she was infatuated with Potter." The sneer was unmistakable. There was never any love lost between those boys, though neither of them seemed so interested in picking on each other so far this year. Which made his life easier.

"She certainly is a lovely girl," Snape allowed.

"Lovely, sir?" Draco sighed in what seemed to be desire. "She is beautiful and powerful. Clever and her eyes, sir. Her eyes sparkle when she laughs and her laughter reminds me of running water. She can command authority, sir and she never lets others to stand up for her anymore. She is…"

"Quite the catch."

"…not interested in me," Draco finished, a touch of regret colouring his voice

Snape smiled. His student was most definitely falling in love. If not already in love. It would have been a pleasure, in other circumstances, but now…now it could be a problem. Though, it would be interesting to see a union between the Houses of the Malfoys and the Weasleys. There hadn't been one for quite some time. Some centuries in fact, if his memories served him right.

"So, anyway, sir. What were you thinking about in the hallway, if you don't mind me asking, sir?" Draco asked in an obvious attempt to change the subject. Then again, he really did want to know what had his Head of House so…stunned earlier on.

"Oh, this and that. Trying to find a solution to the present situation…without destroying the school while at it." He barely managed to conceal the smile that threatened to emerge as his student choked in his tea.

"Destroy the school, sir?" Draco asked bewildered. "I can see how that left you…err…stunned," he finished lamely.

"Indeed," Snape agreed.

"Sir?" Draco asked tentatively after some minutes of silence. Snape looked at him, thinking that it was about time the student would tell him what was really on his mind.

"Yes, mister Malfoy?"

"I was wondering, sir. That is, both me and Theodore and the guys, you were gone for quite a while, sir," Draco said, not really uttering his question but it was obvious to both of them.

"Soon, Draco. Tell the others as well. The plans are under way already."

"Thank you, sir." Draco seemed both more relaxed and more worried. Snape didn't have to be good at readying people to understand that.

"What else bothers you, Draco?"

"Many things, sir."

"Would you like to elaborate? It is far easier than playing twenty questions."

"It's just…you see…even if they are freed they will be outlaws." No need to mention who.

"That is correct, Draco. But they will be sheltered and cared for."

"Yes. And it is good to hear that, sir…but…" the boy was fidgeting now. He had to make a very big decision quite soon and he still hadn't made his mind.

"Draco, this is a war. In a war people die. Loved ones die. And, worse, in a war of ideals and life values and power, like this one, it is not uncommon for children to turn against their parents. It is not pleasant, but it happens."

"Father always said that one didn't have to act against the Dark Lord to be against him. He said that people who did nothing, people who remained on the sidelines, neutral, were even bigger foes than those who fought against the Dark Lord." Draco sat looking at his Professor for some guidance. Snape sighed and sat back.

"Lucius is right, of course."

"Oh." Draco slumped a little bit. "Then what ever I do, it doesn't matter. I am lost."

"No, Draco. I understand your father's logicThis is a civil war. The Dark Lord is trying to change our world, and if you are not on his side you are against him. No matter what you do will have some affect on creating a future. Lucius wants you to understand that by removing yourself from this war you basically fight against both sides, since you belong to none. And yet the question remains, Draco, and you must ask your self: Is this really your war to fight in?"

"I…it should be. I…shouldn't be talking these things with you sir." Draco rose to leave.

"Why?" Snape's question stopped him before he had even taken a step.

"You ask why, sir?" Draco asked incredulously. "Sir, you are…"

"I am you Professor, your Head of House. It is my job to protect you, give you advice and talk things over with you" Snape answered for him.

"Yes sir. But you are also _his_ left hand." Snape frowned. That bit of information the boy wasn't supposed to know.

"And what makes you say that, mister Malfoy?"

"Err…I overheard mother and father talking about the old days sir. Quite accidentally, of course." The young wizard couldn't prevent himself from smirking. It wasn't very often that one could say that one had spied on Lucius Malfoy without being found.

"I see. And how many of the Students share this kind of information?"

"No one sir. At least I never said anything to anyone, but there are some that suspect. With all due respect, sir, but you are not exactly what one would categorise as a 'light' wizard, sir."

"No I am most definitely not," Snape agreed with a slight disgusted expression. He didn't even want to be thought of as one. He most certainly wasn't one. "But even if you are right, Draco…"

"I am, sir."

"Even so, I am first your Teacher and then anything else."

"But still you could be sharing information with the Dark Lord, sir, about what our beliefs are."

"I do, mister Malfoy. Trust me, I do. But the Dark Lord isn't willing to act against those who, as you put it, remain neutral to this war. It would force many of them to choose and, mister Malfoy, it is better when there is a significant number of neutral people around, rather than them being forced into becoming one's enemy. There is no way to predict which side most of them would choose if they had to."

"I see."

"Draco," the Head of Slytherin House rose from his chair and took hold of his student's shoulders, his eyes betraying the honesty of his words. "my generation believed that the Dark Lord was the only way out of what seemed to be the path of destruction the wizarding community walked on. We really did believe that and it is increasingly difficult for one to change patternsofthought as one grows older. No one wants to be proved wrong, much lessadmit to it. My generation is lost. We have already been divided between the armies and this is our war. Your generation, however, your generation can decide whether to make this your war or not. This school and its operators seem determined to make you believe that this is your war too. In the end it is your decision only. We, as your teachers and elders can only offer you the view of the world as we see it. Not as it is or should be or could be."

"Then what is your view, sir? On this war?" Draco asked, not losing one bit of what was being said to him.

"Me? I believe that in the old days the Dark Lord _was_, if not the only certainly the best solution to the problem."

"And now, sir?" Snape's lips twitched a bit in what could have been a smile. A sad smile.

"Now, Draco, now I think that you are bright enough to judge this for yourself. And I believe you already have. Otherwise we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Indeed, sir. Thank you, sir." Draco nodded in understanding of all those things that were said and more importantly of those that were left unspoken.

"It is my job, boy. Draco, what ever you decide, know that I will always be here to help you."

"Of course, sir."

"And, boy, keep your thoughts hidden from the world. You may find it best to wait till the last moment before you declare what side you are on. You never know, we might get lucky. The whole thing might be solved before you, or any of your fellow students have to make such a decision." Draco turned around to look at him once more with a glint in his eyes.

"I do hope so, sir, but something tells me Potter isn't as good as that."

"Oh, I wasn't speaking about Potter," the Potions Master whispered after he heard his door closing, signaling the departure of his student. He stood long minutes where he was, just thinking and going over all that had transpired during the weekend. Then, slowly, he walked out of his office and towards his Teacher's rooms.

The walk wasn't long, seeing as how the two rooms were in the same area of the castle and Snape found himself regretting that fact. He really did want to have more time to think before he met with Derian. He knew his friend, his teacher, wasn't going to pressure him to talk about anything he didn't want to tell but he feared that since that was the case they would spend an evening talking about nothing at all.

Snape smiled as he came upon the entrance of the Ethics of Magic Professor's rooms. It was hidden by the same stones that all the walls of Hogwarts consisted of and one would have very easily by passed it if one didn't know that this was the place. The only indication that the door was hidden behind the wall, were a few smaller stones strategically set where the door should be. Simple, inconspicuous, like the immortal he could feel lurking inside the rooms, hiding the truth of the wonders they guarded, just like his Teacher continuously did.

When his first knock was ignored completely Snape sighed and uttered the password he had been given previously. The wall opened to reveal the hidden door opening to let him inside the room. Snape took one step and froze. There across the room, by one of the bookcases, his Teacher was leaning threateningly towards an obviously terrified Lupin. Snape had rarely seen his Teacher presenting this so very cold, so very cruel persona of his on anyone and he knew that Lupin had finally come to get some answers out of Derian, infuriating the old immortal in the process.

"…turned the scales of many a war, werewolf…" he heard Derian saying and he knew that he had better interrupt what ever it was that was taking place in front of him.

"Derian? Lupin? What is going on in here?"

ooO0Ooo

_Thank you all for readying and reviewing this story. It really makes a difference to me. Having said that it shouldn't be difficult to imagine what you ought to do next._


	13. Wednesday 17th, DADA Classroom

_**Disclaimer:** No need to remind me. I know, I know they are not mine._

_Hey people. A short note, considering that the 6th book is out. I haven't read it yet, hopefully will have it on my hands by Monday. I don't know if I will be able to integrate some of it in this story or not but we'll see after I read it. At the moment this story is as if it never happened. Well, it always was an AU anyway. I will continue this if you want me to. Hope the sixth book is a good read. _

_Enjoy._

**oO0Oo**

**Wednesday 17th September**

**DADA Classroom**

The day had not begun promisingly. Since the very early hours before dawn, when it was still dark, thick clouds had gathered above Hogwarts threatening heavy rain. And so it was that when the students walked through an uncharacteristically dim castle to go to their first lecture of the day, nature decided to gift them with a display of how violent and how beautiful she could be.

They jumped, it was so unexpected.

The rain had started falling some time ago, smooth and gentle, gifting the earth with life giving water. It wasn't that long before it changed. The first warning was the sound of the rain becoming increasingly louder. No more gentle but harsh and punishing. Then the sudden blue light scorching the grey sky for a split second overwhelmed the light from the torches tosuch an extent that some thought they had gone out. No more than three seconds later the thunder had many of them, be they first years or professors, jumping, so loud it was. As if the canons of a man-of-war were allfired simultaneously.

While some first years screamed in other classes, the sixth year students of this particular class had been through so much that this thunderstorm, though impressive, couldn't distract them for long from the lecture.

And yet each time a new bolt of lightening split the sky, each time the expected thunder drowned the sounds of the Professor speaking, all of them scream silently. It didn't matter if they would ration that it was just electrons moving around, breaking the dielectric of this vast capacitor, or the ancient gods making a racket up there for reasons mortals were never meant to know. Deep down all of them were united in the primordial sense of fear before a show of such unparallel power.

It was only fitting, therefore, that that day it had been decided they would take a closer look at fear in their DADA class.

"…thank the gods the Ministry finally decided that it might be useful if you were taught how to fight them back." Professor Lupin was trying to be heard through yet another thunder. He inwardly cringed as it felt like this one as well had fallen somewhere in the vicinity of the castle.

"But, sir, isn't it a difficult spell?" Parvati Patil asked.

"Yes, but it all comes down to practice. Now the words of the spell are straight forward and I am sure that many of you know them…Mr. Potter?" he asked as he saw the boy looking out of the window. "Would you like to inform the class of the spell?"

"Expecto Patronum." Harry said with a frown that indicated that no, he actually didn't like informing the class of it. "But you have to have a happy memory to call the power from."

"Very good, Mr. Potter." Lupin said with a smile that revealed nothing of the turmoil he felt inside. "And does anyone know why you need a happy memory?" several hands went up in the air, Hermione's one of the first. "Yes,Miss Granger."

"Dementors feed off them, happy memories, in a random way as they loosely exist in our memory. So if you create a Patronimus out of one very concentrated happy memory the Dementor finds it impossible to assimilate it. In fact it drives it away."

"Correct."

"But, if it is the happy memories it feeds through, then why is it fear you feel when it comes near you?" Pansy Parkisson asked.

"Good question. Part of a Dementor's ability is to draw memories and emotions to the surface. But then it will consume the happy ones. So a Dementor sucks in all the happy memories leaving you to experience only the bad, sad and fearful memories. And since we usually dread those memories because they are always connected with something that hadn't and still doesn't feel good, we feel that fear most of all, as it is not just the memory of fearful circumstances, but also the fear that we will experience some of our least wanted memories. The most fearful ones."

"On what does the strength of the spell depend?" Millicent Bullstrode asked.

"On various factors." Lupin answered "One has to be able to hold onto a happy memory while already feeling the effects of the Dementor. And it also depends on how strong that particular memory is. Also, the determination and will of the wizard and witch can intensify the spell."

"But not the personal power of the witch."

"Not really, no." He smiled. "This is why this spell is considered rather difficult. It has to do with the ability to control oneself as well as with the life of the witch or wizard before that point. Unhappy people cannot produce a spell like this, even if they have as much power as Merlin had. Neither can people who loose their heads the moment Dementors appear. And that usually is the most difficult thing to do."

"But can a Dementor be killed?" The moment Hermione asked the question an eerie silence fell over the class, only broken by the occasional thunder and the noise of clothes rustling as more than one head turned to stare at her. "What? What did I say?"

"Miss Granger, this is a rather difficult question. Butno, there has never been a documented case of a Dementor being killed." Lupin answered as Draco bent to mutter something into Blaise Zabini's ear. "Yes, mister Malfoy, is there something that you wanted to share with the rest of us?"

"No, not really, sir." Draco smirked. "That was the whole point of whispering, you know."

"Two points from Slytherin." Lupin responded. "And it wasn't a request Mister Malfoy."

"You should have said it wasn't then, sir."

"Mister Malfoy!"

"I was just commenting it is surprising that someone like Granger doesn't know, that's all, sir."

"What do you mean someone like Hermione?" Ron stopped smiling at the misfortune of their enemy and frowned.

"Oh, dry up, Weasley. I meant what I said. Someone like Granger. Someone that always seems to know everything." Draco rolled his eyes. "But, then again not everything is found in a book, is it?"

"And what do you mean by that?" Hermione asked not knowing if she had been insulted or complimented, or both. Though a compliment from Draco Malfoy? Nah.

"Merlin's name! I am speaking in English, am I not?" Draco sighed amidst the sniggering of the Slytherins. "I am just saying that the kind of information you seek is mostly taught and learned in the spoken traditions of the Wizarding world and are not found in the books, at least not these here in Hogwarts. But of course being who you are, you couldn't have known that. Apparently Muggle and Wizarding worlds have different legends and myths as well."

"Yes, well." Lupin cleared his throat in an attempt to calm the students'spirits. "As mister Malfoy said these are tales passing down in families. It is not within the scope of this class to discuss them. These stories have a time and a place and this is neither."

"But there might be something important in such stories."

"Miss Granger these are just stories. It's like the myth of Robin Hood or King Arthur that you must know. Surely you are not told those in school?"

"Well, no, but there are books…"

"If you really want to learn those stories, may I suggest you ask some of your classmates? Or even me at a later time. We must go on now." he told her with a kind smile, all the while thinking how poor they were, the muggles, missing out all the incredible myths and legends the world of magic harboured. "Now, Dementors are known to move in flocks, and that is what makes them so dangerous. The feeling of dread you get increases with their numbers as their cumulative hunger increases. One wizard against a Dementor has a fair chance of escaping even without calling forth a Patronus. But a group of people can be very hard pressed against a flock of Dementors, and indeed it can prove fatal."

"But why?" Dean Thomas asked. "If you have more wizards you have more Patronus. It should be the same."

"No. You haven't listened to what I said." Lupin shook his head. "The Wizards will all feel the cumulative power of the Dementors and it will be very difficult for any of them,much less all of them, to produce a reliable Patronus, thus making the situation very hazardous."

"So, what can they do?"

"Nothing really. They either produce a Patronus or don't. It doesn't have the best results, obviously, but that is how it works." Lupin shrugged. "Now, as you can understand, it is imperative that you learn to cast the spell successfully. I am aware that some of you already know, but practice makes perfect. So for the next month one hour of classes will be spent on practicing this spell." Lupin said with a cheerfulness that wasn't joined by any of the students. Instead a feeling of dread passed over them.

"You mean you are going to bring a Dementor and have us…us…fi…fight against it?" Neville asked the question hanging from everyone's lips.

"No, no. That would be highly dangerous." Lupin smiled. "Instead Professor McGonagall has offered to transfigure one."

"Anime Transfiguration is very difficult." Hermione said without thinking.

"Not to mention that this spell borders on the illegal, dark spectrum of magic." Draco said with evident disbelief.

"Both of you are quite right." Lupin nodded wondering how a student like Draco Malfoy, who didn't seem to be especiallyinterested in Transfiguration, would know that very shadowy spell. Then again he was a Malfoy. And the spell was practically a dark one. "But Professor McGonagall is a very talented Transfiguration Mistress and she has special permission from the Ministry."

"How does it work?" and for once it wasn't Hermione asking but Blaise, who seemed very interested indeed. Then again, if Lupin remembered correctly, he was very good in Transfiguration.

"I was…am reasonably capable in Transfiguration, but this spell is beyond my capabilities. I think I'll leave Professor McGonagall to explain it to you. Suffice to say she will be taking a live subject, a mouse, a bird, something of that size, and she will be casting the spell on it. The subject will be transformed into a Dementor and with another spell it will feel like one as well. Then you will practice facing it. Obviously, the Dementor will be controllable so there will be no accidents, no Dementor**'s** Kiss."

"Well, that's a relief." The whole class sniggered at Dean's relieved sigh. It might be a little bit extravagant, but otherwise it mirrored their feelings.

"Yes, I am sure it is. Now on to other matters…"

The storm continued though the rest of the class, never diminishing in its power.

oO0Oo

"Professor, how is a Dementor born?" Hermione swallowed and had to restrain her urge to roll her eyes. That was twice in just four hours that a whole classroom had gone absolutely silent and had turned to look at her, because of something she asked.

"And why would you ask this, Miss Granger?" Derian managed to ask her after a few moments.

"Well, earlier today we had this lecture on Dementors in the DADA class, but Professor Lupin said that if I wanted more information about the lore of their existence I should ask someone outside his lesson as it borders to myths and tales. So I thought I'd ask you."

"We are not dealing with myths and legends here either, Miss Granger."

"No, but if they were created by magic, as everything I know about them suggests, then that means that someone created them. And that is an ethically doubtful use of magic."

"How so?"

"Someone created a new life form. That should be something good. But on the other hand Dementors survive on the happy memories of people. If that was the purpose of the spell then it is unethical. So I want to know what happened."

"And I suppose that you wouldn't be satisfied if I just told you that yes that was the purpose of the spell and yes it was an unethical use."

"Not really, no."

"But sir, you can't know that." Hanna Abbott, a Hufflepuff, argued. According to the changes Derian had enforced, this class was filled with students of all four Houses. And some of them had never even heard of this tale before. "No one knows how Dementors came to be. It is lost in time."

"Well, some still remember, Miss Abbott." Derian said as all of his students were focused on him. "Still, this is not the time…"

"But, sir," Draco spoke up. He was very interested to learn more about this subject. He might have looked down on Granger for not knowing, but to be honest this story was wrapped in mystery, only told with the most secretive of whispers from parents to children, through the generations, most of them believing that were they overheard…. No one wanted to be overheard. It was to bring bad luck to him or her who dared to speak of such matters that so defied the laws of magic and nature, because as everyone knew, the Dementors were created by an evil so great that it had been purposefully forgotten. "if this is not the time, when is? You once said that we could bring up anything to discuss in your class, so why not this?" a murmur of agreement was heard through the classroom.

"Discuss, yes. But here it seems I'll be the one carrying on the whole conversation. Rather a monotonous discussion, wouldn't you say?" Derian smiled as some of them sniggered.

"I don't get it." Harry said loudly. "They exist. You know how to drive them away, you have them guarding the Prison, and yet everyone seems to be so afraid to speak of them. It's not as if they are around."

"That is true, Mister Potter, but you see, the circumstances under which they came to be are dark to say the least. And you must know some things are so dark they are not easily spoken of. Especially if they are so dangerous."

"But how were they created? Didn't you say that magic wasn't evil?"

"Yes, I did. But the person who did…oh very well. I'll tell you." Derian gave in at their pleading looks. "But you are to talk of this to no one, ok? They'd probably have my hide if they knew I told a bunch of kids this myth."

"But it is just a myth."

"For those who do not know any better. Now, silence. I am not going to be telling this if you keep interrupting me."

"You haven't even started."

"Mister Malfoy!"

"Fine. No more talking."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"Draco…"

Draco was simply smirking. Derian sighed and sat down at the couch. When he had gone through his plans of how he wanted this course to take place, he had decide that a normal classroom wouldn't be sufficient at all. So he had transfigured all the desks and chairs, with the help of McGonagall, into comfortable armchairs, couches, huge pillows and low tables, for the students to sit and discuss around. A fireplace was created by illusion charms that gave a warm and calm atmosphere, according to him. On the eastern wall there was a bookcase with several copies of the books Hogwarts Library housed and others that he had gathered through the years. None of them could be taken out of the room, unless by him.

All in all the students had been rather surprised when they walked in for their second EoM class.

He felt like a Kindergarten teacher, sat as he was in the couch with all those eager – if a bit overgrown – children seated around him in the armchairs and the pillows scattered on the carpeted floor.

"This story goes back a very long time." He started. "In the ancient times, mortal men, be they wizards or muggles, shared the earth with far more creatures than we do now. There were Spirits and Demons and there were Gods. Or at least it was thought they were gods. They were called different names by different civilisations, but thesebeings had one thing in common. They were immortal." The class laughed at that. All of them knew that there were no immortals. It was just a myth. Derian simply smiled, his eyes sparkling in knowledge these children would never be privy to.

"Some of them had great power, some not. Some could do magic, far more powerful than Wizards can control, and some were no better than squibs. The Wizarding World remembers them as the Mages."

"But they left thousands of years ago." Terry Boot of Ravenclaw protested.

"It is thought so, yes. But at the time this story takes place they were still there. And it was because of that that Dementors exist today. You see, the mortal men envied them. Hated them for they always lived, and never died, while mortals had to ultimately move on. So they fought against them. To destroy them. To kill them all."

"But they cannot die."

"They cannot die natural deaths, but they can be killed. Many were forced into hiding and many others were killed. But some survived and they may still walk among us. Some of them…some of them nurtured such a great hatred against the mortals that they used their great advantage against them. Time. All of them knew that no matter what, they would survive it they were not caught. But it is difficult to nothate those that hunt you, kill your friends and your family. Because they didhave families, and they wereas capable of love as any of us is.

"And so the years moved on, and the mortals only remembered the Immortals as Demons and Gods and Goddess. In their myths and in their legends, in the stories they told around the fire. Not unlike what we are doing right now. But at that time four of them gathered together. Four of these Demons, Gods, Immortals. And one amidst them was a Mage.

"Those of you with Christian background may have read the Book of Revelations." Some students nodded. "Then you will know them as the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse. Only one of them is remembered in the Magic Myths. He who was the Mage is also the first known in the History of Magic asa Dark Lord. And he was the worst of any the following millennia have produced." There was a collective gasp and many of the students, Derian was amused to see, paled a little bit.

"Arawn." The word was whispered, he didn't know by whom. But it was truth.

"Yes. Arawn. Death."

"The pale rider." Hermione said, a questioning look in her eyes. "But the Bible speaks of the future not the past."

"The Bible is an assortment of stories that are of the past." Derian told her. "In any case that story is a myth. Many things found in religious books are just myths and legends that become so important in the time line of a civilisation that they end up being immortalised and hailed as something divine. And reality is always more surprising than fantasy can be. So the bleakest of futures could very easily be described by ancient knowledge. To be honest," he said after a momentary pause "I would rather believe that the horsemen is a myth from the ancient past, rather than the Bible foretelling a future in which the four horsemen reign supreme once more." And gods hadn't that almost happen just a few months ago?

"In any case, these four immortals had it in for the mortals. I am not going to go into details; they have no relevance to this myth, but suffice to say they killed thousands of people over the years they were together. And the Mage, Arawn, was the one that planned their attacks and was believed to be the most terrible of them all, even if he was not the ringleader. He was capable of caring and love and it showed. The people that attended them-"

"You mean slaves?"

"I mean slaves. Anyway they thought he was the kindest of the four and they loved him, the compassion they could see in his eyes, but that made him the most dangerous of all. He killed without a second thought, unprovoked, just because he could, not in order to take something not even to feel the power of it, though he did. He was the one most feared as well as most loved and he aptly namedhimself Death.

"Now, Mages were considered even worse than Immortals. Even Immortals hunted them, considering them to be a great Prize. Thinking that by killing them they would take over their power and abilities. So this Mage had not told of his powers to anyone. Not even his companions.

"They rode for a thousand years, bringing death and destruction everywhere they went. They were feared and as thousands of years had passed since the mortals knew how to kill them, they were practically invincible. If they met a village they would incinerate it. Whole towns disappeared with no trace ever found, after they traveled through. And some were left unharmed, none the wiser of who had walked amongst them. There was no reasoning in their destruction. If they wanted something they took it. If they didn't want something they destroyed it. They had no respect of life, as they hadn't been given the respect they knew they deserved.

"After a few hundred years they were well known. Mortals would beg the Gods to save them from their rage, and some communities begun thinking that they were Gods. After all, kill one man and you are a murderer, kill millions and you are a conqueror. Kill all and you are a God. And they killed sovery many.

"So it was at that time, when Arawn found himself walking inconspicuously through the streets of a small town that he met the people that believed him to be a God. And they worshipped him…"

oO0Oo

_It is a hot day and I am sweating underneath my cloak. The sun is high, signaling midday and I realise suddenly that the people of this little town my brother and I have chosen to attack are filling away, the stores and the taverns closing silently in a few well rehearsed movements. In just a few moments there is no one visible on the streets and I can hear only the dry wind blowing between the houses, bringing with it the smell of spices and desert. _

_I walk slowly around until I can find someone to explain to me where everyone has gone. The sound of steps alerts me of the presence of a perfect recipientof my questions. I wait in a shadowy corner and catch the man by the arm as he passes me by, hurrying to go, presumably to the place the rest of the town is. _

"_Pardon me, if I startled you," I say in a non threatening voice, having, for the time being, assumed the pose of a traveler and a mellow man. "but I am a stranger to these parts and I cannot help but wonder where everyone has gone. Is this a celebration day or has there something happened? Only I need to buy some provisions for my travel."_

"_You are indeed a stranger if you do not know that today we hymn the great Lord of life and Death. You will not find a merchant to sell you anything today." the man tells me._

"_I see. Then is there a place I could rest till the day is gone?"_

"_No, stranger. Every single soul of this town is gathered in the temple in the West and that is where I am heading now myself."_

"_Maybe then I could follow you, and watch your celebrations from a corner. If you would not find that insulting."_

"_No, stranger, come." The man says, obviously eager to go where it is he was heading to._

"_So may ask you who this Lord is?" I ask as we walk quickly through the streets. Already I can hear voices unite in a hymn coming from somewhere ahead of us._

"_He is a powerful God. He is still walking among us and he will never leave, as the rest of them did, the cowards. He has been given total control of our lives and the moment of our deaths, and we praise him for he may grant us everlasting life."_

"_So powerful he is then." I say deep in thought. While I never believed in the Gods that mortals usually called upon, I know that there are more things under the sun than any one could dream of. "And what would be his name?"_

"_His real name is hidden from us, mere mortals that we are. But our priest, who is a wizard, knows of it. Our priest has met him and spoken to him and he was promised everlasting life for himself and all those that would follow him in his quest to become worthy of it. He was told that we could call him Namtaru."_

"_Namtaru?"_

"_Yes. He is at the end of the life of everyone, so it is only fitting. He travels with another three lesser gods on this land ending the lives of all that see him, but we have been promised life."_

"_I see." I almost laugh aloud when I finally realise what this is all about. The priest, the wizard, might have been someone we had met and allowedtosurvive for some reason and he had gone on tellingstories of being promised everlasting life. I have to lower my head to hide the smile that crawls onto my lips at the mention of the lower three gods. Kronos wouldn't be very happy to hear about that._

"_We are here." _

_And indeed we have reached a temple with an impressive brick entrance possibly as high as ten meters, standing in front of a mountain cave. I follow the man inside and suddenly the hymns and voices surround me as we walk deeper and deeper in the cave. Eventually we are separated. Being curious, I walk on until I can see before me a child no older than eleven summers kneeling on top of a large altar, hands and legs tied up, lacerations all over his body, red blood flowing freely to the white marble altar and then to several bowls, in which the faithful dip their cups and drink from. _

_I smile at the scenery, thinking that the priest is a clever one, indeed, and that this is so much better than traveling around and killing. But then again, I would kill all of these people in a few days, so there is no point in staying here. As I keep looking I realise that the boy isn't the only one that is being bled to death. His blood couldn't possibly be enough to feed that many. Suddenly I feel the urge to become known to these people who worship Death, who worship me, with such a passion. And since my brothers are not around, I will do it in style._

_It only takes a soft spoken spell and running my hand over my face for me to create an illusion of there being an ivory skull under my hood. The image all these people will immediately connect to Death. And then I do something I very rarely do. Certainly never around other people, especially if they are of my kind. I allow my power, my magic, my quickening, to be felt. I stop hiding and people around me become aware of me. I simply stand there as the priest, an old man that reeks of magic and death, comes forth searching around as if blind to locate the source of what I've been told is an eerie, unnerving feeling. Slowly the mortals around me begin to move away from me, leaving me standing alone in thecenterof an empty circle. _

"_Who are you?" the priest cries and points at me with a tall staff. For show, I am sure, he has the top of it burning with green light._

"_I was called." I keep my face hidden but slowly take some steps closer to the altar. The mortals flee before me. They might not be able to see me yet but they can feel me._

"_Who are you that we called?" the priest replies and I am satisfied I can hear a faint tremor in his voice._

"_I rule Life and Death. I decide who moves on and who lingers, I am Namtaru and I was called." I lower my hood and they see my hands of bones and the skull with lightening as eyes. And they bow before me, not questioning but accepting my presence there. I can feel the fear. It is coming in waves from everyone in the room and it is intoxicating, alluring. Surely this is the greatest of powers a man can hold. I have no illusions as to how powerful I am, and I know that a God I am not. But for them I might as well be one. For them I am the God of Death. _

"_Lord!" the priest mumbles and lowers himself in his knees, "bless us all." I can see that he doesn't know what to believe but he knows that whatever I am I am far more powerful than he. "Bless us with the eternal life you once promised for me and mine. For us that believe in you, and hail your name to heavens. We are your servants, Lord, and we will follow you forever if it so pleases you."_

"_Follow me?" I laugh and it is a cruel cold sound, rather unpleasant. I find it wholly satisfying as they cringe. "I rule over you anyhow. I own your lives and you are my slaves. What can you give me that I do not have already? You believe in me and hail me, but nothing would change if you didn't. I would continue and you wouldn't."_

"_Lord, I beg you! We will do anything. We will give you anything it is ours to give. You will have servants that will always be yours to call upon. And we will help you on your task in anyway you want us to."_

"_With your only reward being everlasting life?"_

"_Yes my Lord." _

_I reach the altar and step on it, the blood stains my white cloths and cloak but I don't mind. I lift the boy in the air with a movement of my hand and I see the wizard being persuaded that I am indeed Namtaru, his God, as he knows very well only a God or Demon can do magic with no wand. But I am neither, though Demon might be a good description of me right now. A few well chosen spells and the boy is freed and completely healed, as I grant him life. He stands there trembling before me and I lift his head to look into my non existent eyes. The faithful watch every movement we make, not wanting to miss anything. _

_A gasp is heard when the boy is healed and granted life in their eyes. Their hopes are climbing high that I will give them their stated desire. I smile, or at least I would if I had lips. It only takes a thought and the boy falls into a heap before my feet, dead. _

_I give life and I take it._

_My faithful servants cry and the noise of people trying to leave is heard through the cave. But I command the doors to close._

"_You gave yourselves to me." And my voice is a cold whisper that never leaves my lips and yet everyone hears it. "You only ask for life. So be it. From now on you shall live forever, and as long asyoulive you shall take the life force of others of your kind." _

_The spell might have existed at some time in the past. Maybe I learned it in a temple in Egypt when I was being taught the secrets of the after life. The secrets of Death. Or maybe I just though of it now. I just made it up. But it flows from my mouth, words that will never again be uttered, but will always be remembered. And the silence is filled with the screams of my faithful. And the wind blows inside the cave. It is not air that which blows. It is their souls that were the only thing that truly belonged to them and which they gave to me. Freely. Stupidly. They come out of their bodies as their screams echoes in the stone walls of the cavern and they rush around trying to find a way to escape but my spell is powerful and I capture them. I draw them all towards me and they form a stream of memories good and bad, the essence that were my faithful and they spiral towards me, around me, until they are all gathered in a simple spherical black object that resembles an opal, but is in reality, their souls materialised. _

_And the screaming ceases, though a silent lamentation for what was and is no more hangs in the air. I smile and end the illusion and I appear before them as I am. A man. A Mage. An Immortal. Yet they can only feel my power that I slowly once more draw inside me, silencing it as I silenced their screams. It is still here, just as their screams, but no one of them can see it. No one can feel it. And no one can hear them._

_I lower myself onto the throne they reserved for the priest and I looked at what I have made of my loyal servants. They are looking at me with empty eyes, betrayed. But I hold in my hands their only way of escape from this future, this fate they chose for themselves. And they know it. No one can free them but I. They will start decaying, I know, as the years pass and the time comes when true Death would have come for them. _

_Those ignorant mortals, thinking me for Death, when true Death is just another face of the Great Lady. I smile thinking that I must have angered her greatly with my actions today. I just stole two thousand souls from her realm. They are mine, now, imprisoned for as long as I desire. _

"_My faithful servants," I tell them and they are all in one smooth move on their knees, giving me the proper respect. "Your gift that has been freely given is accepted graciously. And I have kept my promise. Leave this place and roam the world. As long as you live you will feed offthe souls and essence of others of your kind – muggles and wizards alike. You can replace the souls that you have lost with those of others – at least temporarily. But eventually you will consume everything good you take in. And you will always hunger for more."_

_It is not a gift what I have given them, more like eternal damnation, but they asked of me what was not mine to give. And I gave it to them. They never specified what their eternal life was to be like, anyhow. I laugh cruelly as I watch them leave one by one moving from the shadows of the cave on the bright day outside. They cannot feel it. The warmth of the sun on their skin, the pleasure that this would naturally give them. In reality they are dead from within, only they never realised. And so they will continue. Like I will. _

_My brothers find me there, a few days later, still seated on the throne, the decomposing body of the young boy on the blooded altar. I am playing with my gem of souls as I smile and welcome them in. Another city conquered and destroyed. Not yet a God, but soon. Very soon._

oO0Oo

"…and they have roamed the world ever since." Derian finished his tale, all the while trying to still the shudders that run though him on the mere thought of what had happened. Of what he had caused.

"All the Dementors are those people?" Dean asked.

"Yes, mister Thomas. They cannot die and they cannot be born. They exist outsideof time."

"And what of that dreadful man?" Pansy Parkinson asked, startling many from the other Houses. After all she was a Slytherin. But Derian knew better. What had happened then went far beyond anything even Lord Voldemort might want to do.

"He was killed some centuries later." He told her and deep inside he wished it was the truth. And yet…and yet he was still alive, and he still wanted to live more. And Death? He could only hope the chains held.

"What about the Gem of Souls? Surely if that was found the spell could be reversed?" a clever observation from mister Potter.

"Indeed. But there is a hitch. It is lost." Derian told them sadly. He had left it behind with the rest of his stuff when he moved on from that life. And he had never been able to find it again. Though he hadn't really searched for it all that much, if he were to tell the truth. "And no one knows the original spell." No one but him. The only person who knew it in the first place.

"But if the Mage was killed, shouldn't the spell be broken?" Lisa Turpin, a Ravenclaw asked after a few moments of thought.

"One would have thought so, but it hasn't." Derian said, wondering if indeed his death would cause the release of those two thousand souls. He wasn't ready to try it.

"Maybe he wasn't really killed." Draco suggested.

"Perhaps. But this Professor doesn't know." Derian lied with the ease born of millennia of lying. "Well, I told you the story, now you must do as you promised and tell no one of it." The students nodded in agreement. "Great. Then we shall move on to the originally chosen topic of the day which was the discussion of court order on the Marleson case in 1376…"

And the lesson went on, as life always does.

And deep in the heart of a Manor that no one could find unless one knew where it was, down through a labyrinth of corridors and passages hidden from all but those meant to walk them, a black gem resemblingan opal gleamed and a thousands screams escaped and a thousand lamentations begun and were all unheard, unnoticed by those that dwelled in the castle.

Two thousand souls, though, felt it, the change that was approaching, and soon, oh so very soon they would be free. After all, what are some months of waiting after three millennia of suffering eternal life?

oO0Oo

'_Kill one man and you are a murderer, kill millions and you are a conqueror. Kill all and you are a God.' By Jean Rostand (1894-1977)_

_Namtar - in __Sumerian__Assyrian__ and __Babylonian__ mythology Namtar was a hellish __deity__, god of death, and the messenger of __An__Ereshkigal__ and __Nergal__; he was considered responsible for diseases and pests, because it was said that he commanded sixty diseases in the form of demons that could penetrate different parts of the human body, and offerings to him were made with the purpose of preventing those illnesses. Other spellings are Namtara, Namtaru_

_I am using it here on the assumption that these people in the village didn't know that there were four immortals or maybe that only Death was important to them, or maybe finally that they had simply morphed them all to one person the one they feared most. And seeing as what the Horsemen do was to kill, they joined them all under the identity of Death._

_ Thank you all for reviewing and huge thanks goes to MarbleGlove for having the patience to go through the text and correct the not few mistakes I make.  
_

_That'd be all. Please tell me what you think. Don't let me wonder.  
_


	14. Tusday 30th, Muggle England

_**Disclaimer: **Characters don't belong to me. The story does, but that doesn't mean I haven't been influenced by other stories. So thank you to those writers._

_This chapter was supposed to come out some weeks ago but my computer crashed so I had a bit of a delay trying to fix it without loosing any of my data. Good thing is I didn't! I hope you'll like it, and forget that is supposed to be happening the same time as the latest brilliant book of JK's. Tell me what you think._

oO0Oo

**Tuesday 30th September**

**Someplace in Muggle England **

There was only a swish of air betraying the arrival of the old wizard. His first steps were a little cautious as travelling with a portkey was never smooth. He was in a very normal looking muggle apartment. Apparently in the living room, judging by the couches and low table. There were dark bookcases filled with books and glass or silver artefacts in one wall, and a huge grey thing that he thought was probably a television. Windows decorated with red-cream curtains, matching the cream couches, overlooked the illuminated street, allowing a yellowish hue to enter the room, creating shadows. The occasional car that went by had the shadows dance and look as if they were alive.

It was when one of said cars passed by that the man cloakedin black robes and sitting in the far end armchair was illuminated.

"Tom."

"Albus. I hope you found the place easily." The Dark Lord smiled at the irony of them two – the most powerful wizards in their generations – meeting here, in an utterly normal muggle flat.

"I couldn't miss it. The instructions were…detailed." Dumbledore lowered himself onto the comfortable looking couch. His eyes caught the framed photos in the low glass table in front of him and bent to pick one up. It showed a family of four. The parents and two girls. Happily looking at the camera from a place that most certainly was not England. Maybe a picture taken while on holidays, the Headmaster thought. "The family…did you hurt them?"

"You did want to meet someplace inconspicuous." The Dark Lord shrugged, all the while thinking how predictable the Headmaster could be. Even in his unpredictability. Like when he requested a meeting with him. Just him. It had been…unexpected and he was curious to find out what the Great Albus Dumbledore wanted to discuss in private with him, without anyone being the wiser of their conversation. Or meeting, for that matter.

"Oh, Tom…" Dumbledore sighed as he put the photo down. He should have known better. Nothing came without a price when dealing with the Dark side.

"Relax, Dumbledore. They were just persuaded to go for a short holiday." Voldemort did not know what compelled him to tell this to the old wizard, but the image of the shrunken frail old man that was wallowing in guilt might have something to do with that. Or maybe he just wanted to surprise him a little. To destroy his belief that a Dark Lord was indeed the incarnation of all evil and cared not for anything or anyone else. "So, what was so important that you wanted to talk to me?"

"I noticed you do not try to correct me anymore when I call you Tom." Dumbledore said instead.

"I grew up." The Dark Lord said a little bit amused. Was the old wizard trying to figure him out, yet again? "Names have power for those that give them power. You try to insinuate that I am not as powerful as everyone believes by calling me with a name that binds me to the muggle world. Pretty ironic seeing as you also try to have people believe that muggle wizards can be as powerful as purebloods and should, alongwith muggles, be treated with respect, as equals. In any case I know exactly what my boundaries are, no matter the name you wish to call me by."

"I see." Dumbledore mumbled. He showed no surprise on his face or in his posture, but the Dark Lord knew that it was there: that tiny bit of feeling that something had gone amiss.

"So, what was it that had you go so out of your way to arrange a meeting with the notorious Dark Lord?"

"Severus Snape." Ah. The Dark Lord lowered his hooded head, in an attempt to hide the smile that was threatening to form on his lips. So, Severus Snape had done it again.

"Hogwarts Potions Master? What about him?" he asked.

"I know he is a Death Eater."

"You do? And you haven't killed him yet? How…generous of you. But I still don't see what that should matter to me." After all he was playing the part of the black hearted evil monster. But inside him he was beginning to get a little bit worried. Why did Dumbledore tell him this?

"He is your Potions Master. And the Slytherin Head of House." The Headmaster pointed out.

"I can always find another one. Granted he or she probably wouldn't be as good as Snape, but I can live with that. As for the Slytherin House…there seems to be an increasing number of wizards from my own House that refuse to join me, all of them being students since Snape took over." He didn't like saying that but it was true.

Slytherins were avoiding him while more and more people from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuf and even Gryffindor Houses were willing to join him. The irony of life, he supposed. He had wanted Snape to get him new students and the boy did as he was told. Only they weren't from his House any more. He seemed to think that this way, keeping them neutral, keeping them far away from the war, he was protecting them. From both sides of it. Sad thing was he was probably right about it.

Dumbledore, Dumbledore had no idea what his Potions Master was working so hard atall theses years. He had had no idea how indebted the Order of the Phoenix was to Snape. And not just for the information Snape passed on.

"Well, my sources tell me otherwise. My sources tell me you want to remove him from Hogwarts to use his talents elsewhere." The Headmaster said. Voldemort had no doubt who exactly those sources were. The only thing he was wondering was when he had ever said something like that to Snape.

"I would assume that since you know that he is a Death Eater you would be happy to see him go."

"I don't want him gone. Or hurt." Dumbledore said with so much force that it startled the Dark Lord.

"You care for him." It was a statement. "And yet after all these years he has spent by your side, he still just calls you 'the Headmaster'. I wonder why."

"Snape is a very closed person. I've tried many times to become his confidant but he won't let me." Dumbledore didn't understand why he felt the urge to justify himself on the Dark Lord, but he did. Maybe it was because Voldemort was right. Maybe it was because he had failed to give anything back to his spy for all that the man had given him. Maybe it was because he was betraying his spy even now.

"If you say so. In any case. I do have other things to do tonight so if we could go back to the topic?"

"Severus is the topic." Dumbledore argued. "What are you going to do tonight?"

"Try to take over the world, Pinky." Voldemort rolled his eyes, then snorted at the bewildered expression of the Headmaster's.

"Pinky?"

"Never mind. It's a thing only a muggle would understand." Which in itself, he supposed was quite funny. He, a full pledged Dark Lord, quoting a damn irritating cartoon mouse.

"Very well." Dumbledore said hesitantly. "I want you to allow Severus to stay at Hogwarts."

"You _want me_ to do something?" Voldemort was incredulous. "You must be joking."

"Look, Tom. I do care for Severus and I do not want him away from me-"

"Because then of course you wouldn't be able to control him." He surmised.

"Because then his life will be in danger." Dumbledore replied annoyed. "He is a Wizard leaning towards the Darkness and he doesn't need this. There are those who suspect him for what he is and unless he is near me I fear they would try to harm him."

"And you think that this would happen if he was out of Hogwarts, with me?"

"There are many in your ranks that consider him a traitor."

"And is he not?"

"What?"

"Come on, Dumbledore. You care for him? You want him to stay close to you. You know he is a Death Eater and still you keep him. How stupid do you think I am? The only reason why you might care for him all that much is if he betrayed me." The Dark Lord said with some annoyance. Dumbledore had just made possibly the single most stupid error in all these years of conflict. He had just exposed the very person he was trying to protect.

"I…he…yes." The Headmaster said lamely. "He is my spy."

"For how long?" At least Dumbledore didn't know that Snape acted as a spy for both of them. Maybe there was still something he could use that would enable him not to actually haveto kill his dark child.

"Since '79."

"I see."

"Tom, what are you going to do now?" Dumbledore asked.

"What is there for me to do? He betrayed me. Has not been one of mine for some time it seems. It is only fair I recognise that and fulfill my end of the contract." In other words, kill him.

"You don't have to do that." Dumbledore reasoned. "You needn't call him again. He can stay in Hogwarts and not be my spy any more. He won't harm you that way."

"Headmaster, if Snape broke the agreement he had with me he must suffer the consequences. He has always known that. It is just sad that he was revealed by his own side. By you. So careless."

"Tom, if you spare him, I'll…I will be in your debt." Dumbledore said with a sigh.

He had known before he came here, before he had asked to meet with the Dark Lord that Snape's role in the wars would probably be revealed. He had accepted the risk trying to think ways he might avoid it or at least come to an understanding with the Dark Lord. He always wondered why Severus Snape held such an important place in his heart, but he did and he wasn't going to refuse it. Maybe it was because of the name he carried. The family he was the last descendent from. He wasn't very worried that Lord Voldemort would now know that Snape was a spy. He knew that the game was up anyway for his Potions Master. If Snape had left Hogwarts as were his Master's orders he would have lived on borrowed time anyway. Maybe this way…he could come into an agreement.

"A life debt?" The Dark Lord raised his non-existing eyebrows in surprise. "Well, I must say, it's not always that the Great Albus Dumbledore begs for someone's life. It is intriguing." He was speaking while his mind was working in furiously to come into a decision of how he could best take advantage of this.

"You'll do it then?"

"Yes. But you won't like the price." The Dark Lord smiled under his hood, suddenly feeling very good. He had the perfect plan and it was Dumbledore that had provided the means to implement it, no matter how accidentally that was. "I want a life for a life."

The silence was only broken by the occasional passing by car.

"My life for his?" Dumbledore asked quietly not really knowing if he was ready to leave the world of the living, no matter how long he might have lived.

"As tempting as that may sound, no." Lord Voldemort bent forward allowing the Headmaster to see his pale glamoured, skull like, face in the yellowish light of the room. Dumbledore shivered involuntarily as he remembered the handsome boy Tom Riddle had been all these years ago. Half a century now. "I want Harry Potter."

"No." the answer ready, absolute. He wouldn't sacrifice what he saw as the only hope of the Wizarding world. Not for Snape.

"I see. Then I suppose there is nothing to talk about any longer." Lord Voldemort sat back again hiding in the shadows.

"I can't let you kill him."

"Who? Your spy or your hero?"

"Either."

"Let me explain this to you, Dumbledore. Severus Snape was chosen, by me, to inherit everything of mine afterImove on. I am not so mad as to fail torealizethat I might not succeedin my quest for immortality and the years have gone by. I need an heir and Snape was my choice."

"And yet, you are willing to kill him." There was surprise mixed with anger and surrender in the Headmaster's voice. Suddenly it became apparent why the Dark Lord wanted his Potion Master so close to him. Why the Dark Lord even cared for Snape after a fashion.

"He betrayed me. Though it only intensifies how good an heir he could have become. He is a powerful wizard. I will admit that I wanted him out of the school to begin this transition exactly." The Dark Lord snorted in his mind. There had never been any talk of him removing Snape from Hogwarts. The boy had always been considered his heir and he knew it as well. It wouldn't change no matter what the Headmaster might be lead to believe. "But if you wish to keep him, you may do so only if you hand me an appropriate replacement."

"Harry."

"Yes. Mr. Potter."

"The boy hates you, Tom." Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "He would rather die than join you."

"The boy," Voldemort argued, "will do whatever it takes to defeat me. Even if that means learning the Dark Arts. Learning from me. Slowly becoming me, without him ever realising he is. I think it will be fit indeed to be defeated by the Boy-Who-Will-Then-Become-The-Dark-Lord-In-My-Place. As you know, he did receive a gift of my powers that fateful night. And I have peered into him. There is much hatred and darkness surrounding his core. You must have noticed, Dumbledore. Your little Hero is beginning to break."

"All the more reason for me to keep him away from you." Dumbledore said, accepting what he already knew of his favourite student.

"Still, you keep throwing him in my way."

"Not by choice, Tom. Like it or not you are bound by a prophecy."

"Whatever." Lord Voldemort snorted. He knew the prophecy was broken, nullified almost a year and a half now. "It is getting late, Headmaster. As I said I have other things to attend to. Are we agreed? Your Spy's life for your Hero's?

"On one condition only."

"I wasn't aware that life debts came with conditions." Lord Voldemort sounded amused.

"If I leave now, Tom, you know very well that I will keep Harry and you will kill Severus, so we shall both lose. My condition is that you shall allow Harry to complete his studies in Hogwarts and then you may try to approach him as you wish."

"It will do you no good to try and waste my time, Dumbledore, but nevertheless I will agree on it. You realise of course that since I am unable to approach the boy for the remaining two years, your dear Potions Master is still under my command."

"You will not kill him."

"Of course not. A promise is a promise. He will not leave Hogwarts either, for two years. I will keep calling him to my side and I will expect him to perform his duties as always – no spying included obviously. And also you will swear to secrecy. This is not to leave these rooms."

"I swear." Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

"On the eve of Mr. Potter's graduation, though, you had better make sure your little hero is someplace easily accessible to me. You will not hide him from me."

"I will not hide him from you, but I will prepare him to hide himself and rebuff your advances."

"I didn't expect anything less than that. Have a good day, Headmaster." Lord Voldemort said, still hiding in the shadows, as the Headmaster activated the portkey back to Hogwarts.

oO0Oo

So Severus' game is finally over. This time for good I should hope. And I did get Harry Potter out of the whole ordeal. I can't help but smile. All in all I am very satisfied. I do wonder, however if Severus had this whole thing in mind when he said all those absurdities to the Headmaster about leaving Hogwarts. I suppose he was trying to follow my orders but the way he chose to go about it was cutting it rather close. Quite a liberty my boy took here, telling the Headmaster that he was to quit. After all,Dumbledore might have let him go. Or had him thrown in Azkaban. To me that would be the obvious choice but it seems the boy somehow…somehow had known exactly what button to push. Had known how far he could stretch the truth. Very dangerous when dealing with the Headmaster, but the old man seems to have a soft spot on _my _spy. And it did work fashionably well, I have to admit. However, some forewarning would have been welcome.

Still the boy knows how I work and also how Dumbledore – it seems – works.

"You can come out now, who ever you are." I say to the silence that has filled the room.

I felt the presence moments before the Headmaster portkeyd in. I didn't say anything because I wondered…wondered if the Headmaster had managed to break my charms on the portkey I sent him and was able to bring some other with him. I stayed silent the whole time, waiting for their move. Would he try to attack me? With only one man as back up? Was he then so certain of his power? But he had done nothing. In fact it seemed as if he wasn't aware of the third presence in the room. And I couldn't help but wonder; was he so good an actor?

Maybe he really didn't know. Then how had said third party arrived here? The portkey was locked onto the Headmaster's signature and could only carry one person. So I kept my silence and the knowledge of the intruder to me, intrigued to see what would happen.

Nothing happened. Apart from the fact that when Dumbledore left the third presence didn't depart with him. It lingered as if waiting to see what would happen next.

"I do not understand." The voice is thin and high pitched, but surprisingly quite pleasant to the ear. A form disentangles from the shadows – now that is what I call a nice trick – and moves towards the couch.

"Who are you? Or better still, what are you?" I ask as the form is illuminated by a passing car, just enough for me to see a creature that looks female, perhaps, no taller that a meter and a bit, with brown skin and white hair flowing all the way to the ground. It is impressive, even if so short. It – she? – is dressed in outlandish clothes that remind me of Arab Princess dresses with thin lace and silks that conceal little of their form. Her clothes of blue and gold reveal a tiny brown body, whose skin resembles that of dry parchment – and indeed, I can almost feel it against my fingers, though I do not touch her. Her skin covers a figure that is firm and strong if willowy, with no breasts, not even nipples. Disproportional big blue – almost white – eyes look at me and yet I cannot say that this creature, with the big elfish ears and eyes, sans eyelashes – I thought all humanoid creatures had eyelashes, the dry skin and the absence of anything that could be called female other than her silhouette, is ugly.

Indeed she –it – looks endearing to me, and is in a strange way beautiful.

"I am Nebet, the Lady Mistress." She answers my question of who she is and her gender. But what is she?

"And what would the Lady Mistress be doing here?"

"I came here to listen, and yet I do not understand." She replies and it seems to me that she is a small child asking things that are beyond her comprehension. And I feel I just might indulge her.

"Why don't you take a seat?" I offer and she sits in the same exact spot the Headmaster sat just a few minutes ago. "Now, do you know who I am?"

"Tom Marvolo Riddle." I can't help but roll my eyes on her answer.

"Does every one know that name?" I mutter.

"I knew you before you took upon yourself the name of Lord Voldemort." Now that is surprising. She knew me from where? Why can't I remember her?

"I see. You know who I am and yet you do not fear me?"

"I have no reason to fear you. You cannot harm me. My Master's magic protects me from you."

"You have a Master?" I raise my eyebrows. Someone who is so powerful that I cannot break his protection charms?

"I am free."

"But you just said-"

"I know. My Master is a kind man and I choose to serve him."

"Might I know the name of the kind man?" I think she is smirking!

"If you might know the name of the kind man, I would not call him Master." She is amused! By me! Well, I never! This is a day full of surprises.

"Very well. He sent you here to spy on the Headmaster and me. But I want this conversation to remain secret. What stops me from forcing you into silence?"

"I told, Dark Lord, you cannot harm me. Now I want answers." She somehow seems authoritative now. Somehow she seems to be glowing in power, magic. And I feel compelled to give her the requested answers. I do not like this. There is a passage from a book in my mind and I try to remember what it said. I think…I think it described creatures like her and it said what they were…

"And what would be your questions, my Lady?"

"You care for Snape. You will not see him harmed." she states. "Why?"

"I raised him. He is my heir and in every sense but birth, my son."

"Yet you are willing to trade him for Harry Potter?"

"I cannot trade what does not belong to me. The Headmaster is easy to manipulate and too honourable to break his promise. In two years, I will be allowed access to the boy with no interference his part. And Severus will go or stay as he wishes."

"But that does not mean he will come back to you."

"He has never left me."

"And what about the boy?"

"I can't harm Harry. And I don't really want him for an heir, I already have one. Though it would be nicely ironic if that were to happen. Maybe I'll drop him on some corner of the Earth, threaten him with the death of anyone and anything he believes of value if he is to return to England."

"I see. Thank you for your answers."

And like that she melts back in the shadows and disappears as silently as she arrived and I find an image in my head of a House Elf, all those long years back in Hogwarts. A House Elf whose name was Nebet and who told me one summer rainy day, the day before I leave Hogwarts for the first time for summer vacation, to go back to that accursed place that I was forced to call home, she told me then not to worry, because Master Riddle would become a great wizard. She could tell from my name. And I had smiled, and wiped away my fearful tears as she gave me an empty pouch that provided me with chocolate and anything I desired for the whole summer away from my real home, Hogwarts.

That Nebet had been a House Elf.

This Nebet was a real Elf.

She had broken the bonds of magic that held her submissive to wizards and I would bet that her Master, the kind man, had something to do with that.

And I can't help but wonder if she did it, and she is from Hogwarts, then how many more are free? And who dwells in that castle that has the power, the knowledge, and the desire to set them free?

oO0Oo

_That's all folks for the moment. I am leaving for vacation tomorrow so next chapter won't be posted for a while. Thank you for your reviews – old and new. And Marble Glove, thank you so much for beta-ing this story. It just wouldn't be the same without you._


	15. October 10th, Vector

_**Disclaimer:** Anything you recognise in the story will probably not be mine. I am just borrowing. _

_15th chapter here! I hope you like it._

oO0Oo

**Friday 10th October**

**Hogwarts,**

**Vector's Quarters **

"Damn it all to Hell!" Professor Vector shouted as she threw her quill at the wall. Then she groaned as her eyes caught the next sentence on the parchment she held in her hands.

"Honestly, don't those stupid children open a book before they try to do their homework?" she muttered angrily as she conjured a new quill and crossed a whole paragraph out.

"Severus is right. They are brats!"

A quick look at her clock on her bookcase confirmed her beliefs. It was simply too late for her to be correcting assignments.

"Why me? What did I do to deserve such a fate?" she asked, looking at the night sky outside her window. "It's a Friday night! A Friday night, Goddess. And I have nothing better to do than…than…oh hell. Correcting homework?" Her head bent forwards, her slim hand on her forehead preventing her voluminous black hair from falling in her eyes, while at the same providing an excellent curtain to hide behind.

"I must be getting old," she mused, putting the corrected parchment down and picking up another one. Then her eyes opened wide realising what she had just said. "Hell no, I am not!" She cried and stood up fast, stretching her body with feline grace as she looked on her mirror proving to herself that indeed she was as elegant as ever. Not incredibly tall or exceptionally beautiful, at her thirty-eight years of age she still looked as radiant as ever. Small wrinkles had appeared around her eyes and her mouth, but she liked them as it was a testament to how much she laughed. She liked smiling and laughing and it came easy to her. Good thing too, considering with whom she had fallen in love.

She rolled her eyes as she fell back to her chair, her work forgotten for the moment, and laid her long legs on the desk, not paying attention of the many parchments that littered it. She was in love with Severus Snape.

"Goddess, it's so unfair." She moaned and continued looking outside, trying to get a glimpse of the moon as she fought with the clouds for dominion of her part of the sky. The ebony skinned Witch sighed. She had loved him since the time before. Since her school days when she was an awkward Ravenclaw third year – just discovering what a female body really meant – and he, a seventh year, already dark and frightening and powerful and elegant and…and…and she could go on forever. Well that's love for you.

But he was always fighting with those idiot Gryffindors, and how much she used to hate them for treating him so badly. Many a nights she had dreamed saving him from their cruel pranks, or finding him in a dark corner in a hallway, just after he had another go at them – and really four against one it was a miracle he did score as much as he did – crying, as she knew he so many times did, and she would go to him, and hush him, and wipe his tears away with her handkerchief and he would look at her, with those fathomless black eyes that one could loseoneself in, and he would smile at her and she would smile back and he would thank her with a gentle kiss in her cheek and then – dare she dream it – on her lips and…

She moaned and consciously stopped her hand from its chosen path downwards. She was a Professor in Hogwarts now.

And so was he.

She hadn't know.

Goddess, she hadn't known.

When, after years of studies and academic acclaim, Albus had offered her this job she hadn't known that she would find him here. Sure she had heard the rumours of a nasty Professor but she had been continuously travelling since about a year or two before the Dark Lord's first fall. She hadn't known that it was Severus the nasty Potion's Professor. She smiled in remembrance. That first time she had seen him again. It hadbeen about a month before the first term, what seven, eight years now? She had just arrived with her suitcases and stuff and was standing in the entrance of the great hall, remembering, when he came from behind her.

"_It is breathtaking, isn't it? Even when you stare at it everyday."_

His voice was so smooth and calm. Erotic. She hadn't realised yet who he was – she blamed it on the excitement of being offered work in Hogwarts and seeing the school and the enchanted ceiling again after almost thirteen years. She kept on looking at the enchanted ceiling as she answered him.

"_I don't think I'll ever be able to walk down here without feeling like a first year."_

He had chuckled and it had felt like music in her ears. Or maybe it did afterwards when she realised who it was she had been speaking with. She had turned around and her eyes had practically bulged from their sockets. He had looked so…old. So sad.

"_Welcome back to Hogwarts, Professor." _

"_I…thank you."_

He had bowed slightly at her and then took his leave while the rest of the Professors already in the school came out to welcome her, telling her not to mind him, he was always such a grouch, no fun at all, Severus, always snarling and being mean to everyone…

"You looked so different." She whispered remembering. She hadn't had a chance to tell the rest that he had been simply welcoming her. Sometimes they all seemed out to get him. Of course now she knew what then she couldn't have known. And in that day she found out, everything became obvious. His temper, his continuous frown, the sadness and anger his eyes barely contained.

"You looked so wise and powerful. You still do." her arm was outstretched caressing an invisible face.

She smiled. The following years had been a journey worth of every wrong turn. They had formed a friendship that was kept hidden by an instinctive silent agreement. They spent hours together in the library, talking, studying, fighting…they were always fighting.

And then that first kiss.

Her dreams had returned by that time of course. Of him taking her for a walk outside in the lake, as he usually did. But they wouldn't be talking about Potions and Arithmancy, or they would in the beginning, but then he would sit down, forcing her to the grass as well, and he would look at her with those eyes that had changed so much over the years, and yet were the same, and they would light up suddenly full of passion and he would lean closer and she would be magnetised by him and wouldn't be able to move and he would sink those beautiful long white fingers in her hair and draw her close until she would be able to feel his warm – not freezing or foul smelling or any of these idiocies the students told about his lovely person – breath on her skin, and his lips would be so close and she would-

"What in heavens name are you doing, Woman?"

**S**he let out a small shriek and jumped. And of course, as always when he was around, she proved to him once again just how right he was in calling her clumsy by falling on the floor in a heap of robes, books and parchments.

"Goddess, Severus!" She said a hand on her breast trying to calm her heart before even attempting to get up. "Way to give a woman a heart attack."

"I am sorry, dear," he smirked and she noticed that he was leaning against the doorframe, two wine glasses in one hand and a wine bottle in the other, looking as majestic as always, "but I knocked and you didn't answer." He pushed himself elegantly off the doorframe and walked over to her – still on the floor – leaving first the bottle and glasses on her desk and then bending down a bit to give her a hand. She loved how smoothly he moved, the economy of his movements as he effortlessly helped her up. "So what were you thinking?"

"Oh, never you mind," she blushed. And then smiled. Her dreams had come true. Well, it hadn't been the lake, and it hadn't been him making the first step, but her patience had limits. So she had stolen the first kiss from him during a rare moment they found themselves alone in the hallways after a Christmas party.

"_What was that for?"_

"_Merry Christmas, Severus."_

"_I don't believe in Christmas, as you very well know."_

"_You are cute when you frown."_

He had thought that she was too drunk that night, he never mentioned it again. Well, she had been truth to be told. How else would she have found the courage to do what she did? To kiss the formidable Potions Professor? She wasn't a Gryffindor. Though in hindsight it probably was for the best that she wasn't. Severus agreeing to talk to, never mind date, a Gryffindor? Absurd.

"So what are you doing here at this late hour? Don't you have any children to terrorise?" she asked him smiling as he helped her pick up the parchments from the floor. Mmm…he did have a nice ass.

"I don't think my reputation will be damaged if I take a night off," he replied.

"That doesn't answer my question, though."

"Thirty Galleons and a dinner, wasn't it?" he smiled. She loved it when he smiled. He did it so rarely, especially during the day. It made him look ten years younger than usually. "Well, I thought it was high time I received the second part of the bet."

She had stolen the second kiss a few months later. In the library. One rainy Sunday night, when they had met to study something or other – she really couldn't remember what. He had sat himself opposite from her. She had been peaking over her book at him again and again, trying to be subtle, to keep him from noticing. No wonder she couldn't remember what it was she was supposed to be studying. She probably hadn't been able to comprehend a word. And then a plan had formed in her mind. A brilliant plan. She half raised herself from her chair, pretending she was going to reach for a book next to him – it was well known how he hated being interrupted from his work for such insignificant things like passing things because one was 'too indolent to get what one wanted without bothering the hard working people in the school' – and then…then as she was almost there, almost touching the book, she turned slightly and with speed she didn't think she could master her lips were touching his, his warm breath feeling like a dream against her skin and then…it was over. She sat back down, hiding behind her book, thinking that he would curse her to the seventh circle of hell.

Instead, he had stood up, and silently came over to her side – and she had hoped he would leave the library – and he kissed her! Fully and deeply and with passion and…

"I thought I was supposed to make you dinner," she interrupted her strain of thought. If she continued down that way…not that she didn't want to, mind you…but a romantic dinner for two? Offered by Severus Snape? It was simply too good to pass by.

"I can go if you want," he offered.

"Don't be absurd!" and she was on him in a second, kissing him, her fingers tangled with his black hair, and then caressing his chest and his back and lower…

"Someone is hungry!" he smirked. "But you will have to restrain your self, Amanda. I had the Elves prepare a delicious dinner. It would be a waste…"

"It can wait," she dismissed it and almost forced him to her bedroom.

Yes, the fates had been kind to her, even if they had been very hard on her Severus. When she had learned…when he told her…but it didn't matter. It was in the past. Even though the past had recently been resurrected.

oO0Oo

"They look good together, you know."

"I know. Though if he knew we were watching he would have our hides."

"Hey, we stopped before things turned really serious."

"Whatever."

The two immortals looked at each other and started chuckling. Contrary to the rumours that wanted Trelawney's rooms as smoky and heavy as her classroom, they were spacey and essence free. The two immortals were seated on the floor, on some skin rugs, just as they would have done all those millennia ago, around a low wooden table that held a crystal ball and two glasses of whiskey.

"You never did tell me how you came by this marvelous beverage." Methos said as he sipped a bit. "I thought it wasn't allowed."

"And since when are you worried about what is or not allowed?" Cassandra asked him a bit bewildered.

"Damn Boy Scout must be rubbing off of me," the Old Man rumbled.

"Ah, yes. The Highlander. Wonder what he is doing now."

"Oh, you know. The usual. Meditating, refusing to pick up his sword, try to figure a way to fight against Ahriman. Wallowing in guilt." He said slowly. "You know. The usual."

"Ah." She mumbled and they fell silent. "I wonder what he would think seeing us like this. Sitting together, hell,working together, without us trying to kill each other."

"Hmm…he wouldn't be able to think, me thinks. He'd probably have a stroke before that brain of his could begin working." Methos looked at the whiskey against the light from the fireplace, as if he could find answers in swirling liquid.

"You are being unjust."

"Am I?" he rubbed his eyes. "Hell, Cassandra, Darius tried to prepare him, I tried, you tried and when time comes what does he do? Kills his own student. I feel like I failed and I don't like feeling like I failed."

"He wasn't ready." Cassandra agreed. "But who among us ever is? It is very difficult to fight your own demon, and you should know that very well. It took you only what? A thousand years to win the battle?"

"Death wasn't the result of loosing against Ahriman." he mumbled.

"Really?" she looked at him in interest. She had always assumed that that was it. That his 'evil' side was far too powerful for him to win when the time had come. She had thought that it had taken him a thousand years to become strong enough to control that less than endearing side of his. "Then what was it the result of?"

"I'd rather not talk about it," he said calmly but in a final way.

"Sure. Whatever." She knew that this wasn't something to force someone to talk about.

There were few people every millennium – she knew – that were selected to fight against a representation of the worst fears of the community they lived in. The representation became known under different names, Ahriman being just one of many. She sighed. This time around she only knew of three cases. Duncan fighting Ahriman for the immortals, Potter fighting Voldemort for the Wizarding world, and there was a woman in Africa, Leeu, fighting against something that she couldn't really see. She knew that there were others as well, around the world. It happened every thousand years, when too much unspent energy had gathered in the world that it took a more solid form and had to be dispelled to bring things in balance again. She had gone through it about two thousand years ago, thankfully with the help of Rebecca and some people very special to her. All long dead now.

"Have you seen Selest again?" Methos asked her suddenly.

"That wife of yours?" he nodded affirmatively. "No." she looked at him carefully. He looked troubled and saddened. "I could help you cross the veil, you know."

"I can do that alone."

"Yes, but when was the last time you did it? One thousand five hundred years perhaps?" she smiled when he shrugged. "I thought so. I know you can cross the veil, you taught me how, but do you remember your way around?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you won't allow yourself to return." She told him silently. "I think you'll find many reasons to remain beyond. Theselast few years haven't been easy on you. You lost too many loved ones."

"Maybe." He spoke nonchalantly though he knew that she was probably right. "And why do you care anyway? I am not exactly one of your favourite people." They once more fell into silence, staring at the fire, each lost to their thoughts.

"He'd be mad at us." He murmured, a mischievous smile on his lips.

She snorted in agreement "Only mad? We'd have to go into hiding for the next couple of centuries the way we played him."

"You have to admit it was fun." She turned to look at his green-gold eyes surprised. "Well not the killing part, but the effortless way that we managed to manipulate them all."

"It was fun. But I was scared, when you came to tell me he was dead." She agreed.

"I thought he might be. When Kronos told me that he send both Caspian and Silas after him I thought that he was dead." Methos agreed. "But he proved me wrong."

"Again."

"Yes. Again." He smiled sadly.

"Don't worry Methos. He still has time. He will win this battle." She told him with more self assurance than she felt. He smiled at her.

"I know."

"What about Severus?"

"Ah. Here things become far more complicated." He raised an eyebrow, silently requesting more whiskey for his empty glass. She rolled her eyes but poured him some.

"How so?"

"You know Nebet, my House-Elf." She nodded. "You know what she really is." A nod again. "I freed her."

"You what?" she sputtered.

"Elves weren't that bad. I think it's high time they were freed. If this situation continued for longer, their conditioning wouldbegin to wane, they would free themselves and we would have another magical war. It's not what this world needs. It would be too harmful. For all sides. So I thought I'd help the transition."

"I hope you know what you are doing." She said hesitantly.

"So do I."

"So what about Nebet?"

"Well, she kind of read the outgoing mail of Dumbledore and found out he had set up a meeting with the Dark Lord and told me."

"Dumbledore did what?" Cassandra was stunned beyond belief. "He knows he is supposed to be fighting against him, right?"

"Apparently Severus told him that Voldemort wanted him to quit Hogwarts and he didn't want it to happen." Methos smiled. "He fears that were Severus to go back to the Dark Lord he would either end up dead or so deeply submerged into the Dark Arts that he would be lost to him forever."

"I wasn't aware he had him in the first place." Cassandra said dryly.

"What can I say? The boy has a talent." Methos was proud of his student. "Dumbledore is in for a big surprise. In any case, I asked Nebet to go and spy on them."

"And did she?"

"Mmm. Apparently Dumbledore, in a brave but foolish effort to save Severus Snape, spy extraordinaire, from the clutches of darkness gave the game up."

"He broke his cover? Goddess! Sometimes I wonder who the crazy one here is. Me or him." Methos raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah. I forgot. I only pretend to be. So what did Voldemort do?"

"He made him a deal. The life of his spy for the life of his wonder boy. After Potter finishes Hogwarts."

"But what good will that do? He can't kill Potter."

"No, but apparently he wants an Heir in place of his Heir."

"Snape?"

"Severus."

"Oh, boy."

"It gets better as well."

"I can't wait."

"Severus has been lying to me all along." Methos said. Irritated with himself that he hadn't spot it and proud that his student was so good at lying at the same time. "Guess who raised him from an infant."

"No." Cassandra muttered in disbelief.

"Yes." Methos nodded.

"Is he his father?"

"Nebet said that Voldemort doesn't think so, but he doesn't seem to know who the boy's father is either. And apparently he was in love with his mother during his school days."

"You do know how weird it is discussing the parentage of an immortal, right?" Cassandra asks him after a few seconds.

"Ah, but he isn't just an immortal, is he? And come on, you can't really believe that there is no explanation of how we come into existence."

"I'd rather I didn't." she told him with anger underlying her voice.

"You and me both." He sighed. "But life is as life goes and Selene Snape _was _Severus mother and she is one of my descendants, making him my true Heir. As for who the father is, I plan to find out. If only to appease the curiosity of a very old, very cranky immortal."

"And what about Riddle? Does he speak the truth? Is he really your descendant too?" Cassandra asked curiously.

"He could be. A thousand years are a long enough time for the family to produce many branches. Draco was telling me sometime ago that one of my girls married a Malfoy. A few years after my 'death'."

"This whole situation is messed up." Cassandra sighed and drank the rest of her scotch in one shot. "Though I suppose I should have expected it." She got up and started pacing. "You had something to do with it."

"Hey!" Methos protested. "How is this my fault? It's not my job to play baby sitter for a thousand years."

"No, just mangle things up and move on." she retorted.

"Now, that is unfair!"

"So, sue me."

"Hmph." He scowled at her but found nothing to say in return, so he turned back to trying to divine gods-know-what from his whiskey. Cassandra allowed herself a small victory smile.

"He is leaving." She said suddenly, when the crystal ball erupted to life once more, and showed Snape leaving Vector's quarters.

"He is?" Methos asked aloud as he peered inside the ball. "I wonder why."

"Methos?" Her voice was a bit far away as she looked in the Crystal Ball, but saw it not. "He is going to be hurt." Methos closed his eyes and sighed his surrendered. Then he silently got up.

"Thanks for the whiskey, Professor." He winked at her as he made his exit.

"Sure, any time, Professor." She replied as the door closed after him, leaving her alone in her quarters. She shook her head in disbelief. "One of these days I really should stop meddling in his schemes. I know better than this." She mumbled to herself.

'_Ah, but then where would be the fun?' _a voice protested inside her head.

"Oh shut up."

oO0Oo

"Severus?" her voice is heavy from sleep as she tries to open her eyes to look at me.

"Amanda. I need to go." I tell her, while I am slowly getting dressed. The dark mark on my arm is black once more. My Lord is calling for me.

"Why?" she whines and for a moment I don't really want to go. It would be so nice to stay here, in the warm bed, next to a woman who for some strange reason decided to love me. I wonder if I am capable of loving her back as much. I honestly doubt it.

"The Dark Lord is calling." She sits up, all traces of sleep gone. Worry setting in her eyes. She has known I am a Death Eater for some years now. Or better,she knows I spy for Dumbledore. How can I ever tell her the truth? I'd lose her. "Hush, Amanda." I lean close to her and kiss those full lips of hers. "I'll be ok."

"I don't like this, Severus." She speaks quietly and truthfully. She doesn't like this and I am contemplating of ways to tell her that I love this? The power, the freedom that comes with being called to my Lord. But it is not really freedom, is it? Not if you call the other person a master.

But I am not free here either.

"I know, dear. But I must do this." I tell her as I get up and move to go.

"Be careful." She whispers.

"Always." What else can I say? I know I am not going to be harmed by my Lord, who is so much more that just my Master. Another thing that I cannot explain to her. What would I tell her? Err…yes, you know I was raised by Tom Riddle, otherwise known as Lord Voldemort. And he was a good father to me, I was a happy child and I loved him. I still do,I think. If I can love these days.

But I know I care for him.

My life is so complicated at the moment. Maybe I should take Michael's advice and leave this place forever. Or at least for a few hundred years. But I would have to live as a muggle and I don't want to do that. At least not yet.

As I climb down the stairs, walking quickly towards the exit, I wonder what this is all about? He wasn't supposed to call me tonight. Which is why I planned this sweet little dinner. Not that we ate any of the food, but never mind. It was more than worth it. She's proven to be quite a flame in bed, Amanda. Who would have thought?

"Severus." The presence of another immortal forces me to stop.

"Michael." I nod as he walks towards me, from the shadows. It's weird but for some reason there are always shadows surrounding this man. "What are you doing here?"

"He has called you?" he sidesteps my question as he usually does. I know I am not going to get an answer, though I wonder how he knows I am called.

"Yes."

"Do you mind if I walk you to the door then?" he begins walking towards the doors without waiting for an assent.

"Apparently no. I don't mind." I sigh and follow him. I am late. Thankfully he walks in silence during the short minutes it takes us to reach the Great Doors. There he stops and grabs my arm to turn me around.

"Be careful tonight." He speaks with deadly seriousness for once.

"I am always careful." I reply, raising an eyebrow in question.

"I mean it, Severus."

"Michael, he doesn't have a reason to hurt me." I rolling my eyes. "Yet. He will have one if I am delayed much longer."

"I don't mean Voldemort. Sybil saw you getting hurt tonight." Now I believe I am stunned. And I thought them only rumours the stories that had those two spending time together.

"You can't possibly believe her! She's a fraud, a crazy woman!" But Michael shakes his head. In disappointment?

"You are good, but still young. Sybil isn't what she seems to be." His reply is enigmatic. "None of us are." He lets my arm go. "Just be careful." I leave in wonder. Things are always more complicated when around Michael. When will I learn that? But what about Sybil? I'll have to think about her later. Now I have a work to do.

I walk towards the apparition barrier of Hogwarts quite aware that there is a set of gold-green eyes watching my progress from the entrance of the castle. Maybe I shouldn't feel so at ease with this knowledge, maybe I shouldn't be thinking such thoughts, but I can't help – I must admit – not to wonder what they would all think if they knew that deep down I missed this. I missed the**se** feelings from 13 years ago. I suppose Dumbledore would be appalled, while Michael – who knows what Michael would think? Maybe he would be disappointed, maybe he would understand. I have stopped trying to outguess him a long ago. It has proven impossible.

I am smiling as I put on my mask and the Death Eaters robes that make me indistinguishable among the rest of the Death Eaters. I know very well I am all but undistinguished among both the light and the dark side of this war. I have missed the feeling of the smooth material that is my mask. I have missed the way my robes feel on me. This past year I can't help but feel enthralled each and every time I answer my Lord's call.

I apparate, allowing myself to relax and follow the warmness of the link that will take me to the Dark Lord. I push all the irrelevant thoughts away from my mind. As much as I am enjoying this, I still have a work to do.

oO0Oo

"Mr. Potter, I thought the curfew was some hours ago." Professor Derian says aloud, still looking in the direction Snape disappeared.

"He called you Michael." I remove the cloak, no need of it now since he knows I am here. Though, I wonder how. Only Snape has ever been able to tell I am around. And Mad-Eye Moody. But he did have that mad eye thingy. And he wasn't Moody in reality. Oh, and Dumbledore in the third year. Though I don't know if he knew because he could see us or because he could see it playing in Hagrid's mind. He knows Legilimency after all. Scary to think how many times he has used it on me without me realising it. Or Snape for that matter. It would explain how he seems able to read minds. But thisProfessor, he can do it without even looking at me.

"He did indeed." He agrees with me. It has me thinking. Maybe he isn't what he seems to be. Maybe they are together in something. With the Dark Lord. To whom Snape is going, I presume, the slime bastard. I don't believe he is spying against him no matter what Dumbledore might sayI have known him to err before. One too many times.

"Is that your real name?"

"No, not really." He seems amused. "What would you be doing here at this hour, mister Potter?" he asks as he motions me to walk back in the castle.

"I couldn't sleep."

"Indeed?" he replies. It is obvious he doesn't believe me at all. I can't say I care that much. What will he do? Expel me? "Well next time you should make sure you are not caught. Five points from Gryffindor."

"I did make sure." I reply. Angry at myself for loosing yet more points. "Invisibility cloaks are supposed to make you invisible. Clearly it doesn't work that well."

"Clearly it doesn't. Though you can take pride that Severus didn't realise you were around. He wouldn't have called me Michael otherwise."

"So why did he call you Michael?" we are walking towards the Gryffindor common room. Well that is something I suppose.

"He knew me by that name when we first met."

"How did you meet?"

"He apparated in front of me in London." He replies but doesn't seem to want to say more than that.

"I don't trust you." I say suddenly after some moments of silence.

"Indeed?"

"You don't care?"

"Why should I? Who are you that I have to make you trust me? I am who I am and that won't change whether you trust me or not. It's not like you are breaking my heart with such a declaration." He snorts. I feel insulted.

"I think you are a liar." I tell him and he only smirks, amused? I insulted a Professor and he is amused? I insulted a Professor? Merlin, why?

"How very acute of you. But then again everyone lies." He tells me. "What exactly do you think I am lying about?"

"I found a book on Derian Deofol." Well, it's not a book, more like a passage. And I didn't find it, Hermione did, but that's just details.

"And?"

"He was a Dark Lord. And he had no children."

"That's what the history says, but history is, in most cases, moresubjective than you think. Like how you killed the Dark Lord when it was your mother's spell that did the job. How you saved the Wizarding world, while all the people like the Weaselys and the Aurors and even Snape are never mentioned. And they did save many people. We rarely get to choose who writes the history and how it gets written."

"I don't like you." I know it is childish but it is the truth. Professor Derian just looks at me and laughs.

"You don't have to. Not many people do, as a matter of fact." He tells me and then turns to go away. "Goodnight, mister Potter."

And I am left alone once more, outside the common room, wondering where in heaven's name does the headmaster unearth all these weird Professors he gifts us with every year. Then again this is the Wizarding world. Nothing ever makes sense. Not even sense itself.

I say the password – Canary Drops – and enter the common room, no longer in a mood to roam the castle.

My last thought**s** before I sleep are: I wonder if Dumbledore knows that Snape was called away. And if I will dream of whatever it is to come.

oO0Oo

_Leeu lion in African_

_I want to thank you all for your great reviews. Keep them coming. Also huge thanks to MarbleGlove for being my beta. This story wouldn't be as good without her. And you people readying this, why not take a minute and check her stories? You will not be disappointed. _


	16. Saturday 11th, Derian's Quarters

_**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the computer I am writing this is. Hell, I don't even have internet!_

_Before you go on with the story people, I just want to say a huge thank you to those that review this story even though I am so late in uploading. The reviews that I get even after so long the last upload really make want to continue this story even if I have no time. I am pleased that most of you that have reviewed most than one chapter are generally pleased with the way this story goes. I can't satisfy everyone, I know that, but one can only hope._

_Last think I am going to say, I am doing my masters degree at the moment so the workload is more than massive. The past month I've been literally only studying, sleeping and eating. I have no time for nothing else. So it is quite surprising that I managed to finish this chapter – half of it was ready from August. My uploading from now on will be completely erratic – not hat it was any better before, but…. I apologise for that but Masters is masters and I am not planning doing bad on it. On a lighter note, next chapter is ready as well – writing it instead of doing a γ-ray bursts project, which is almost finished so I am not feeling that guilty. I'll probably post it in a couple of weeks. _

_Finally – no seriously – MarbleGlove, a million thank you's. This story wouldn't be half as good as it is without you fool proofing it._

_Now on with the story. Hope you enjoy. _

oO0Oo

**Saturday 11th October**

**Hogwarts**

**Derian's Quarters**

Derian got up with a sigh and went to welcome who ever it was that was standing outside his door. He would have hoped it was Severus but the lack of the immortal presence assured him that his guest was neither of the immortals that dwelled in the castle. No, it felt more like a normal wizard.

"Ah. Mister Malfoy." He found the proud blonde student standing outside. "What can I do for you?" It was obvious that the boy was going to ask him for something as he seemed quite stressed.

"Can I come in?" the young wizard asked and Derian stepped aside to let him enter his chambers.

"Do sit down, mister Malfoy. Some tea,perhaps,before you tell me what it is that has you so troubled that you need to trouble me at this time on my Saturday night?"

"No tea, thank you, Professor." The Slytherin Prefect replied as he sat down. "I am sorry to disturb you, but Professor Snape told us, the Slytherin Prefects, that if something happened while he was absent, or if something happened to him, we were to come to you."

"He could have told me." Derian grumbled at the news of him being made the unofficial deputy Head of Slytherin House. The boy sure had thought of everything. And conveniently forgotten to mention any of it, as well. "So what has happened that needs my interference?"

"Nothing, sir." Those were two words that he didn't want to hear. So Cassandra was correct again. Not that he didn't expect it, but he had hoped.

"How bad is he?" He asked and there was no need to say who.

"Honestly I don't know. Last time anyone saw him he was being carried by Dementors down the-"

"Wait, wait. Dementors? I think maybe you had better start at the beginning, mister Malfoy. I'll start for you. Yesterday Severus was called away by the Dark Lord. So what happened?" Draco remained silent for a while trying to decide how exactly to say what it was he needed to tell the Professor.

"Professor Snape told me the other day, that you were familiar with the situation in the Slytherin House. And that I could be certain that what might be told between us will remain between us." The boy said carefully.

"Severus always knew how to pay a compliment." Derian replied dryly. "If he said that I would not tell anyone then I suppose I won't." That seemed to be the right answer because Draco looked at him relieved and started talking.

"There was an attack on Azkaban Prison early thismorning. The Ministry hasn't, as yet, made anything public so not many people know."

"It was successful?"

"Yes. All the followers of the Dark Lord were found and carried away safely. And the new security implementations really didn't cause much trouble. There were no losses from the Dark Lord's side."

"But one."

"Yes. One." Draco agreed in a whisper.

"So what happened?"

oO0Oo

Something was happening.

Something, finally, was happening.

And Lucius Malfoy knew exactly what all that noise he heard throughout the prison meant.

"They are coming for us." He whispered as he rose, unsteadily – really this wasn't the kind of food or conditions he was used to as Lord Malfoy – and leaned against the wall waiting to hear the magic words.

He'd be free then.

The noises were coming closer to his cell: the footsteps and the shouts and the unmistakable sound of magic as it erupted from a wand. And then Bang! Another door opened, another of his comrades freed. Soon it would be his turn.

And then he felt it. The dread that had one frozen in ones tracks, the fear that stopped your heart and the cold that spread through you and surrounded you. His breath came out in a white cloud. Dementors. Those few that remained in the prison after the turn of most of their kind to the Dark Lord, last year. They had easy food here.

They were coming.

Bang! His door opened.

"Get a move on Lucius, we don't have much time!" The order was harsh and the voice too well known. Snape. He tried to move but he could only stare at the dark figure before him with the white mask hiding the hard face that he knew should be there. "Lucius!" again the imperative order that he had to move, but he simply couldn't. They were coming closer. "Damn it." And the figure moved with a swish of his voluminous clothes, grabbed his arm and forced him out of his cell, out of his prison into the hallway.

Ahead of them he could see more Death Eaters and more of the prisoners fighting against some Aurors, who weren't really faring that well. And behind him…he didn't want to look behind him. He knew the only thing he would see would be the darkness of the depths of Azkaban even as he felt the Dementors approaching. On his right side Snape was still holding him, dragging him as he run to join the rest of his team.

"That's it people. We are out of here." He yelled above the sound of the battle and with mirroring movements each of the Death Easters took out a talisman of some sort and got hold of the prisoner nearest to them. And then they disappeared.

Then why was he there still? Both Aurors and Dementors were closing in on him and Lucius Malfoy knew that,whichever came first, he was going to die.

A moan next to him alerted him to the reason he was still here.

Snape was down. He hadn't seen it but a spell from the Aurors must have hit the Death Eater. A part of his back was smoking; the skin beneath the burned robes an angry red and black colour. Cowards. They had hit him in the back, when he couldn't have been able to defend himself.

And then the Aurors were on them. No spells – why would they need one against an injured wizard and a prisoner with no wand? – they simply walked up to them swearing and looking murderous indeed.

"Well, Malfoy. Next time you should choose a better partner to help you out of here." The leader of the pack had a cruel gleam in his eyes. "And you, there. Back to your hole. We got the situation under control, much use that you were." He shouted at the Dementors. "Well, I suppose that we should see who your friend is, shouldn't we? What's the matter Malfoy, you are being awfully silent today."

But Lucius Malfoy wasn't listening to what the Auror was saying. Instead he was looking towards the depths of Azkaban from whence the flock of the dreaded figures steadily came.

"Sir?" one of the other Aurors said as the leader had walked over to the fallen Death Eater to unmask him.

"What is it, Dwale?"

"Sir, I don't think that they heard you." The young Auror said, taking a few steps back along with the rest of the Aurors.

"What are you talking about?" The Head Auror looked at them and then in the direction they were looking, towards the Dementors that had never stopped their advance but were almost on top of them now. And the feeling of dread was getting so strong that some of the Aurors and Lucius Malfoy were on their knees, holding their heads, silently crying. "Shit." he mumbled and fell backwards a little, but the words he wanted to utter, the life saving spell, was not forthcoming and only a faint spectre of slivery dust emerged from his wand as images of friends dying in Death Eater attacks in the first War came to his mind.

And the Dementors kept on coming, until their freezing breaths could be felt, until their cloaks were almost touching them, as the Aurors as a group backed away, allowing the deathly figures to surround the fallen Death Eater. And then, just as silently, they moved away, back towards the darkness they inhabited leaving nothing at the spot where the wizard had lain. And the wizards looked at each other very confused, as warmness slowly returned to the air, if not to their thoughts, and their limbs functioned once more.

"Well, he certainly is a goner." Dwale muttered. "I don't suppose you know who he was, do you, Malfoy?" and all eyes fell at the imprisoned wizard who was on his knees and had moved almost to the exact spot his comrade had lied.

"I did." He answered and he was surprised to hear the sadness in his own voice. As well as his hope. Because the Dementors had left one little trinket behind. A small trinket that now rested in his hand. "Farewell, Gentlemen. Next time we meet you will not be as fortunate as to survive the outcome. You are going to pay hell for this." And he pressed the trinket, activating the portkey and he was away in the blink of the eye, leaving behind him a group of very confused Aurors.

oO0Oo

"But what about the wards? Weren't there wards preventing the use of portkeys?"

"I wouldn't know about that, sir." Draco said in a tone that told Derian that, yes, he did know but he wouldn't be telling any time soon. Well, it didn't particularly matter now.

"And how did you come to know of this, Mister Malfoy?" Derian asked when the boy had finished his story.

"Father was the last one out of there." Draco said. "He saw the Professor being carried away by the Dementors."

"I see." Derian stood and paced the room deep in thought. "You wouldn't know what the Dark Lord is intending to do, would you?"

"I am not aware of it, no." Draco said sadly. "I know he was very distressed athearing the news but he said something Father didn't understand."

"Really? Like what?"

"He said and I quote 'Maybe a Dementor will bring him to me again. Though he'll make a rather enormous baby this time.'"

Derian raised his eyebrows startled. "He said that?"

"Yes. You know what it means?" Draco asked a bit wary.

"Maybe. Maybe no. Time will tell, I am sure." Derian said and turned to the student. "Thank you for telling me, Mister Malfoy. I think it is time you should be going now."

"Yes, sir." Draco rose but didn't otherwise moved towards the door.

"Is there anything else, mister Malfoy?"

"I don't know why he trusts you, I don't know who you are or if indeed you are worthy of his trust, but I hope you can help him. Professor Snape is highly respected among his House and you should know that we would do anything for him. I would do anything for him."

"I am certain he appreciates this." Derian said nodding. "If that will be all…"

"I thought you should know." The young wizard agreed and walked towards the door.

"Draco?" Derian spoke just before he left. "I know someone that can help your Professor. I'll call him tonight."

"Thank you, sir."

"I don't think there is any need for me to warn you not to speak ofthisto another-"

"It was very kind of you, sir, to help me with the assignment, on a Saturday night nonetheless." Draco smirked, mirroring Derian's smile as he left the Professor's rooms.

"He is clever that one." Derian muttered to himself. "Now, to save Severus." He shook his head in mock disbelief. "I knew he was going to be a handful. Why in Merlin's – err…no, not his name –why in who's ever name did I decided to help him?" he shook his head again in confusion. Acts of such kindness, where he put his life in danger, were not that common of him. Except in the last decade, it seemed.

oO0Oo

_I am in pain_. Those are your first thoughts as you wake up. You know you shouldn't be in pain. Not for such a prolonged time. You are immortal, you heal, and you cannot die. And yet, you find yourself escaping from the blackness that surrounds your mind, to find yourself in a different kind of darkness. Sometimes you've found it protective, when they were hunting for you and you escaped them in rooms and cupboards unknown to all but you. There were other times you founded it alluring, as you seek to find the light that surely should exist in the dark abyss. Most often though, it was soothing, if a bit disturbing, knowing that darkness is what your soul identified with. What your soul felt most comfortable with.

You do not think this is one of those times.

It feels cold, and dangerous and you shiver and try to hide away…from what?

With a tentative hand you reach your back – those spineless bastards, they were too coward to fight facing you – and feel the smooth, new skin that your quickening mended. At least that works fine.

You try to sit up but your head is reeling and you collapse back on the hard mattress. After all, it doesn't matter. You can't really see anything through the black veil that is the world. There is stone going up on one side of the mattress, and it feels old and uncaring to your spidery fingers. You remember this stone. You remember it has a slight green hue that breaks the grey and it is rough, and too hard. You had broken your fist once, knocking it hard. The wetness gathers in your fingers as small drops of water, but you do not try to lick it, to relieve your dry mouth. You know there is no relief, for the water is bitter, salty.

There is only one place that feels like that.

Azkaban.

You are in Azkaban.

The moan that escapes your lips is the only sound that fills the room, besides your breathing and for a moment it is all you can hear, and it is deafening, maddening, you want it to go away. Your mind slips away in the protective bursts of white light that play before your eyes as you are holding your breath, without even realising it, in a desperate try to escape the sound, the cold, the dark. Azkaban.

…

The second time you come to, it is with a terrible sense of foreboding. Someone is waiting for you in the shadows, and you find yourself thinking that it was better before, when there was no light. Because then, there were no shadows either.

"Who's there?" you call out, but your voice is a whisper, and you must try again. Louder, more firm. You think you saw something moving but no answer is given.

You don't need one.

The feeling of dread and cold, the freezing air that surrounds you, gives you ample clues for a good guess. There are Dementors hiding here. You wonder why that comes as a surprise. After all this is Azkaban prison. But Dumbledore had told you that there were no more of these creatures in the Prison Fortress. Your Lord had told you that they had all decided to join him in the war.

They were both wrong.

You surrender to the thought that you've been caught and that there will be no rescue mission for you.

You try to turn around, try to face the wall rather the shadows that lay just outsidethe light circle around you, hoping that this way, whatever it is it will go away. The Dementor that watches, the fear in your guts, the exhaustion, the sadness, everything. It only helps to make you realise how weak you are.

…

The Power.

_You!_

So much Power.

You wake up again – you hadn't realised you had slept at all, but then again it wasn't sleep, was it? – your head feeling like it will explode. You scream in frustration and slowly you feel the pain edging away, but the world is still smoky and swirls, there are shadow-figures dancing before you, around you, but nothing seems real, or even fake, so you wait. You lie and wait for things to become clear \, for the voices to disentangle from each other, for something to make sense.

_I claim him…_

…_no…_

And through the jumbled voices you find conflicting emotions. There is fear – not just yours – and hate and hope. There is surrender and defeat, and pain. But most of all there is Power. Tangible power that you feel you can touch and you try, you try so hard, to extend your arm, just a finger, to touch it, to make it yours, to make yourself a part of it, there's so much of it, slipping through you, whispering to you, promising dreams and targets unattainable to you if…if only you…

…_promised life…_

_You gave me your souls…_

…_you gave us hell!_

But you snatch your hand back; just millimetres before you touch the figure that is a shadow no more. And you see it there, tall and lean, in white robes that billow in a nonexistent air, and the power is his, for somehow you know this is a man, or was a man thousands of years ago, for he is so much more now.

_he...mine_

…_no…_

Swirling and spinning around him, around you, around the room, you fear the power and him as well, but so do the Dementor. You can see it now, too, and there seems to be so much light in the room, blinding light, white and scorching it hurts your eyes, forcing you to keep them half closed and to watch behind long eyelashes that take away so much of the scene before you.

_He feeds me…power…when he was born…won't give him again._

…_dare you…Master…you will give him…die!_

You know that the shrill voice is the Dementors as you know that Dementors do not speak. Cannot speak.

…_never…he…gives us face…I…body! Never…_

You know that they fight for you and you wonder if maybe you want the Dementor to win. The White Stranger feels exponentially more dangerous to you. Yet when he turns and looks at you – there in no face beneath the hood – when he extends his arm to you, you take it, no hesitation, knowing that this is all you can do.

…_curse you…_

_Already am…_

You hear no spell, you see no movement but the Dementor that was there shrieks like a banshee and falls in a heap of robes and cloths.

…_curse you…_

You do not fear the curse; you know it is not you the dark creature curses. You simply stare at it, shivering in the darkness as moments ago you had. You cannot feel pity or remorse, yet there is guilt suspended in the room. You simply follow the White Stranger when he beckons to you.

…_curse you Master…_

You freeze. And look back, the Dementor that looks up at the Stranger next to you. And _it _has a face. And claw like hands, and _it_ has eyes and a nose and a proper mouth, and _it _is no longer a Dementor, _it_ is a Man. A man that fed on you, on your energy, like a vampire does on blood. You turn and look at the White Stranger and he is facing the creature, that is a creature no more, and there is anger in his posture, anger because you know he feels the guilt of crimes untold, unimaginable.

When he beckons to you again, you hesitate this time before you followoncemore. You have remembered. The stories of Old. The Myths and Legends of the forgotten times. Those that you read and those that – isn't it ironic? – Draco was telling you just a few days before that Michael told them.

You smile as he takes hold of your arm and apparate away from the grey rock, breaking the unbreakable wards.

You smile and you feel safe in the knowledge that this is Death, and he will not be taking your life any time soon.

oO0Oo

The day had begun beautifully. Quietly. The students had behaved for a change and there had been no major point losses or detentions handed out. Of course that might have had something to do with a certain Professor missing again. This time without a warning or note to say all was well. Or kind of. It was well into the night when the Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sensed that something was coming. With a sigh and a worried glance at the book that warned him if the wards of the castle were breached, he got up and got dressed.

There was something in the air. Something sinister. He hadn't reached 150 years old without learning to sense such things. Some, he knew, never believed in being able to foretell the future without one of the divination tools before you and certain gift for using it – but he had a feeling that something important would happen in the very near future.

He felt the surge of power just seconds before the Book of Wards flushed in lime green.

Lime green.

The apparation wards were breached.

"But that is impossible" he muttered as he tried to pinpoint where in the castle the intrusion had happened. He knew very well that the apparation wards were password protected and only the Headmaster or Headmistress knew the password. And no one should be able to nullify them. It just never happened. Then he felt a second wave of power and his hair stood on edge, like it had in a thunder storm he had found himself in the middle of nearly a century ago now.

"Albus!" the shriek came from the fireplace. "Come here right now." Madam Pomfrey cried, causing him to cringe, and left the fireplace as quickly as she had entered it.

"Ah! The Infirmary then." The Headmaster said calmly as he stepped into the fireplace withouta second thought.

"Oh, Albus, thank Merlin." The witch told him the moment he stepped into her office.

"Calm down, Poppy. I am here. What happened?" he settled an arm on her shoulder thinking that it must be serious indeed, if his nurse was so… terrified. She was usually very composed even in the worst situations.

"Calm down? Calm down he says!" her voice was reaching hysterical levels. "What happened? How many times have you seen people apparating in Hogwarts?"

"Ah, yes. Our invader. Don't worry, Poppy, he is only one, and the wards have been restored." He told her, having glimpsed the Book a second before he left his office.

"Oh, good." She said sarcastically. "Well, there were two, for your information. And they are both out there." She whispered. "I can feel the magic, can't you Albus? It's like…I don't know, I feel light-headed and unhinged and…"

"I know. I feel it too." He told her calmly as ever. He couldn't get nervous before he knew the facts. "Come; let us see who our visitors are." He told her jovially and walked into the infirmary.

The lights were off. The lights were never off in the infirmary. Even during the night there was a soft blue hue that enabled the nurse to walk around and watch over her patients. Dumbledore tried the lumos spell but nothing happened.

"This is certainly most unorthodox." He muttered while from his side Pomfrey snorted. "Can you see anything?" it was a good thing, he supposed that there were no students in need of medical attention that night. Small favour.

"I can hardly see my nose." The Witch replied in a voiceheavy with sarcasm in a try to hide the underlying fear.

"Ah, good. You are here." A voice was heard from the end of the room, opposite them. "I must admit I was a bit surprised when the nurse left running the moment I entered. I thought their job was to provide help. Not abandon their patients."

"Are you hurt then?" Dumbledore said into the darkness as he squinted trying to see something. Anything.

"Me? No." there was no spoken word, no sound of a wand moving, but a small ball of green fire appeared above a bed. An occupied bed. Pomfrey walked resolutely towards it, her wand up, pointing at the shadows beyond the bed where the voice seemed to come from.

"Who would that be?" Dumbledore inquired as he moved slowly towards the intruder. "And how did you enter these walls?"

"It's sad if you can't recognise one of your own staff." The voice came again both amused and cold, sending shivers down the Headmaster's back.

"Poppy?" Dumbledore asked, still not looking towards her, his attention all focused on trying to pinpoint the unknown man.

"It's Snape, Headmaster. And honestly I don't know what is wrong with him." She said, forcing him to abandon his search. "He looks unharmed, in perfect health, to be fair, but his energy levels are too low." Her wand was moving rapidly, scanning, taking measurements that she immediately catalogued in her mind, trying to compare them with any kind of known ailment or disease that she knew of. For a while all one could hear were the very different breathing rhythms of the occupiers of the room, as they seemed to be mesmerised by the graceful movements the expert witch's wand performed.

"He has been fed upon by Dementors for the past day." The silence was interrupted by the same smooth, even voice they'd been trying to locate the owner of.

"Dementors? Where was he, Albus?" Pomfrey asked worriedly, afraid that maybe Dementors were near the school again like three years ago.

"I have no idea." Dumbledore said and looked towards the shadows inwhich he thought the unknown man was hiding for clarifications.

"You can ask him. I am sure he will tell you. It is his job, after all."

"Who are you?" Dumbledore asked as he tried for whatseemed the thousandth time to cast an illumination spell, but failed. Whatever this man had used to darken the room worked exceptionally well. There still was only one source of light and that hung above the unconscious Professor. "What kind of Dark Magic did you used to enter these halls? Where did you find him?"

"Headmaster," there was a snort and a bitter chuckle. "You are powerful and wise enough but even you have your limits. I've been many things in my life. Right now I am someone who could help your Professor in a moment of dire need. Later, who knows?" and the shrug was obvious in the voice. "I trust he will be taken care of?"

"Of course. But you haven't really answered my questions. Who are you? Why do you remain in the dark. How did you break that apparation wards?" Dumbledore asked again. It was too important for him to ignore. Either the wards where faulty, which meant that the students would be in danger, or this was an impossibly powerful creature and he needed to know what it was in order to protect the castle against it the next time it decided to wander in like this. To be fair he only knew of one typeof creature that could break the apparition wards at will. And those were House-Elves, not any danger.

"Don't worry, Headmaster." The stranger said and it was as if he had read his mind. "The wards are not weak andeven I am not that powerful. I just know the passwords to enter the castle."

"But that is impossible. No one knows them." Dumbledore argued again. It was one of the safety precautions the Founders had taken when they where building the school. The passwords to all of the wards of apparation and protection where hidden. Only one person in the world knew them, and that was the Headmaster or Headmistress of the time. After they left their post, the passwords were automatically erased from their memory. Unnecessary precaution, seeing as they couldn't divulge that information to anyone in any way.

"If you think so." The stranger said indifferently. "I willleave now. Maybe we shall meet again."

"It's not like we've met you now." Madam Pomfrey snorted, her eyes never leaving her patient, but having heard all the conversation.

No answer was given but the Witch and the Wizard felt a rush of air and the sound of beating wings as a black light illuminated just for a second the form that was hiding in the shadows, before it apparated away, leaving them alone with Snape in the darken ward. When a few seconds later the lights came back through no action of theirs, they found themselves wearing similar expression in their faces.

"Was that…" Poppy said,terrifiedoncemore.

"I think so, my dear." Dumbledore answered sombre. Then he looked down at his Professor. "What have you gotten yourself into this time, my boy?"

oO0Oo

_Comments are always welcome. If I have no proof you are readying this, then I really won't have any reason for continue posting it. _


	17. Tuesday 14, Snape Manor

**_Disclaimer:_ **_All that you read here belongs to me. Except Harry Potter. And Methos. And probably anything you will recognise. _

_17th chapter! I managed to get it ready with not a ridiculous delay! I am so proud! I hope you will like it._

_Huge thank you's to my amazing beta-reader MarbleGlove, who will find time checking the chapters, never complaining of how erratic I send them to her. _

**oO0Oo**

**Tuesday, 14th October**

**Snape Manor**

"Well, well, well, look who's here." I would recognize that ostentatious voice anywhere. It does belong to one of my favorite people.

"Lucius. Glad to see you made it." Moments ago I arrived in my castle which all the known** - **and once imprisoned **-** Death Eaters seem to call home as well, these days. I can't say that I like the situation. I am a very private person and having my home rampaged by all of these peoples…well at least my privacy charms hold nicely. Only my Lord can go anywhere he wants, as he has a different kind of agreement with the castle. Though there are rooms and hallways that even he doesn't know.

"I am glad as well." He smiles at me. "That place was beginning to take its toll on me." And indeed I can see thathe is more tired that he was before -older somehow and grey rather the pale white skin he usually bares. Mmm…I probably should give him some of my concoctions. They'll help him on his way to recovery. We stay silent for a while. I know what he is dying to ask me; you can see it in the way he looks at me and bites his lip just a tiny bit. But he is hesitant. Not for long though. If Malfoy is,anything, it is a very curious person indeed. Sometimes more than it is good for him or those around him.

"Severus, what happened back there? In the prison." He finds the courage in the end, as I knew he would, and now it is me that is fidgeting, my robe rustling a bit as I try to decide whether to move or stay at that spot. In the end I suppose it would not make a difference either way.

"That is the question, isn't it?" I say finally. And he releases a held breath.

"You don't know?" There is no suspicion in his eyes, or his tone. He trusts me enough to tell him the truth or not tell him anything. It has helped many times in the past. That blunt truth that he so rarely judges. A Malfoy does not judge if someone is right or wrong, if something is right or wrong. He just knows. He learns as many pieces of information about any certain person or action as possible, and then uses the image he constructs to his benefit. To his family's benefit.

He does not judge for fear he will be judged in return.

It is simpler, sometimes, to be in the company of those who do not judge. The only other person I know that behaves the same way is Michael. He does not judge, he has no expectations. Sometimes it feels like he thinks that whatever you choose, whatever happens, it won't really matter in the course of history. But Michael has at least a thousand year perspective to draw experience from. I only have my forty**-**six years.

So I judge, and I act, and I expect things from people, from life. And I make mistakes. Lots of them. But I consol myself with the thought that everyone makes mistakes. And I at least will have more time in my life to undo them.

"I am not certain." I reply to him. "I am afraid I wasn't really in the best of conditions during the whole ordeal." It is the truth. He turns towards me and squeezes my shoulder affectionately.

"Well, I am still glad that you are here as well." And I find I am smiling back.

I lower my head as if to hide it and he does the same. It has been **so** ingrained in us to hide how we feel it comes naturally these days. And how could it not when we were forced to hide what we liked, what we believed, who we supported and, later in life, not to feel sad for those of us that fell, nor fear of being persecuted, or hide our pride and joy when our missions succeeded. These past years have been very difficult on us all. Slytherins and others who are followers of the old ways. Who wanted their life not to so fundamentally change because of the introduction of new ideas, and of peoples who had those ideas not understanding our ways.

Michael once told me that the key to survival is adaptation. It never works trying to oppose the current of progress, whether technological or cultural. I had not understood then and he had known. He had told me that sometimes it takes the destruction of everything around you, of the ideas you held, the people you lived with, the society you inhabited in order for one to learn this lesson. For one tolearn to let go and move on. He told me that sometimes it had to happen more than once and that some people were never able to learn to let go.

I believe I am in that moment. And I am terrified.

"So," Lucius' interruption is quite welcome when it comes. "how come you are here? Shouldn't you be at Hogwarts teaching?"

"I should, but the Headmaster thought that I need some time off. The official story is I am ill." I explain to him.

"And the unofficial?" he asks raising an eyebrow.

"That I seriously needed a break or I would probably kill some of my students."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"What did they do?" he asks with interest.

"Oh, nothing unusual." I shrug. "I have them make simple potions, or they would be simple if only they would read the instructions correctly and concentrated on the task ahead-"

"With you breathing down their necks?"

Well yes.

With me breathing down their necks.

If they cannot deal with their mean, sarcastic Professor, who, really, onlyhas what power over them that they give me, how will they deal tomorrow with the mean dark world that awaits them? But I never say that. To no one. Sometimes it takes too much energy to explain certain points. It is easier to let them believe what they want of me. It is easy to let them believe that every school has one mean, sometimes deranged, Professor.

If nothing else, it is amusing at times to see their reactions to me. And there is always that satisfaction that you did right by them when they come and simply thank you. Nothing else is needed, you know. Just a thank you. An small act of recognition. I have many students that started to correspond with me after their graduation. Just a parchment in the Holidays, with updates of their lives.

Sometimes that is the best present one can receive.

"Yes, well. They never do."

"So what happened this time?"

"Longbottom happened."

"Ah." And there is so much understanding in that exclamation of his that I know I need not continue. Longbottom's abilities are simply legendary.

"Yes. Only thing is that usually I can deal with what ever he throws my way. Any mistake he makes I have the spell ready and with none of them realising I fix it. I must have done it countless times and only comment upon it when it was a serious mistake. You know."

"I know", he nods.

"Well, this time I wasn't able to fix said problem." That startles him.

"You weren't?" his light blue eyes are wide open, staring at me with clear disbelief.

"Can you cast a spell, Lucius? To your satisfaction?" after all this time in Azkaban goes unsaid.

"I don't have a wand yet." He says bitterly. Mmm, yes that can be a problem for some.

"I can't."

"You can't?"

"I can't."

"What exactly do you mean you can't?" he asks clearly not able to connect the dots. Wizards just simply do not loose their magic abilities over nights. But I was fed upon by a Dementor.

"Exactly that, Lucius. From what they told me when I came to on Sunday and from the little I can remember, Dementors made a royal feast out of me, without killing me for some reason. My energy, my magic hasn't recovered yet."

"But you apparated here."

"I am a wizard, Lucius. I can do some magic. Just not to the level I usually can." I say,rolling my eyes. Hogwarts really ought to offer a magical theory course. And make it compulsory. We, wizards and witches use all this amazing power everyday and almost none of us have a good, clear understanding of where it comes from. Which is how some have wanted it, of course. How can you use something to its complete potential when you do not know what it really is. Magic isn't just spells. Isn't just power or energy. It is also the determination that comes behind each and any spell, the emotions brewing within the witch or wizard when she or he casts a spell. Magic is the will and the ability to fuse your power with your will to deliver anything. Everything.

"So what happened?" Lucius asks while he ponders on that point.

I shrug, "His potion exploded."

oO0Oo

"What was that?" the Castle had just shook.

"Earthquake!" Collin Creevey suggested with a bit of trepidation in his voice

"Don't be a moron; there are no Earthquakes in Scotland." Luna Lovegood rolled her eyes. Did these people never open a book anyway?

"Oh, yeah? What was it then?" Ginny Weasley entered the conversation.

"I dunno. An explosion?"

"An explosion? Are you mad? This is Hogwarts we are talking about." Ginny couldn't believe what **s**he was hearing.

"Your point being?" the Ravenclaw raised an eyebrow.

"It seems **to have come** from the dungeons." Professor Derian spoke up suddenly. They had completely forgotten about him till then. "Please return to your common rooms. And do not wander on your way there." Derian said, wondering what in heavens name happened. The castle felt injured and it showed him that the problem lay within the Potions classroom. Quickly he made his way there, amidst scared– or baffled – students who of course took no notice of his order and where following him, along with other pupils springing up from just about everywhere.

"This doesn't look good." He muttered as he came upon the hallway that lead to the dungeons.

"I agree." Remus Lupin materialized next to him, and they both tried to look though the smoke obscuring the hallway. "What do you think happened?"

"What class does Severus have now?" Derian asked instead.

"I'm not sure. But surely you don't think this is something a student caused. After all Severus has a remarkable ability of preventing such happenings." Lupin tried not to think what a case like the one Derian was proposing might mean. Both for the students and the Potions Master.

"Yes, but he hasn't been well." How could he? Derian thought. He had been fed from by a Dementor for a whole day if not more. That would take its toll to any one. In fact he was surprised when he found that Severus was teaching at all this week, not to mention this day.

"Well, let's find out, I suppose." Lupin said and made his way towards the Potions classroom, only to be stopped by Derian. "What?"

"Why don't you stay with the children? Until the rest of the Professors come. They are bound to want to follow us down there, and that isn't exactly the safest course of action for them, is it?"

"No, I suppose you are right." Lupin sighed, not really questioning why he had to remain behind, while Derian went down there. Some of them were more easily injured than others after all.

Derian smiled at him and before disappearing from view as he made his way down the hallway and stairs. His wand provided light but it wasn't enough for him to see through the opaque grey smoke. At least, he thought, it didn't smell of anything poisonous, and didn't seem to have any obvious effects on him. So probably it wasn't dangerous by itself. The damage the explosion might have caused, though, was another matter.

As he neared the Potions classroom he was able to disentangle the various noises to voices, coughs and the occasional rumble of what he thought might be furniture being moved. He reached the door and realized he was probably right. He couldn't open it so perhaps there were people trying to move stuff away from it to open it.

"Can you hear me?" he yelled at the door.

"No need to scream." A young voice was heard from the room. Ha. So the door wasn't so perfectly closed. Good. "We can hear you."

"And who exactly are you?" he didn't remember what class Severus had now. Though considering this was Hogwarts and things always tend to happen when a combination of factors were satisfied, he had a pretty good guess of which class that might be.

"6th years Slytherins and Gryffindors." Yep. He was right.

"Derian?" a shrill voice came from the hallway, followed by a mess of long black hair and swirling blue robes flying everywhere. "Derian, where is Severus? Is he ok?"

"Amanda, calm down, please. I just came here, myself."

Derian sighed trying to keep his patience. After all he knew how much she felt for his student. The witch was beside herself with worry. Severus hadn't looked well when she had visited him yesterday, and that was before this explosion. Derian just hoped she wouldn't become hysterical.

"Who was I speaking with?"

"Blaise, sir."

"Mr. Zabini, I can't open the door from the outside and I do not want to use magic. There is enough in the air already. I wouldn't want another explosion in my hands, and neither would you, I assume."

"Not particularly,sir, no."

"I told them not to use any magic, sir."

"Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"Smart move. Can you remove whatever there is that is blocking the door?" a few grunts where heard and the sound of moving and falling furniture.

"Yes. But it will take some time."

"Severus, what about Severus?" Derian gripped Amanda's arm in case he needed to restrain her from bodily throwing herself onto the door. No one answered for a while.

"He is unconscious, Professor. As best as we can tell." Granger's voice was heard.

"Is he injured?"

"No idea, Professor. He is simply out of it."

"Anyone else injured?" Derian shouted over more furniture being moved.

"Not really. A few cuts here and there but nothing serious. Whatever it was that Professor Snape did, seems to have protected us quite well."

"But why is he unconscious?" Amanda Vector asked. "What happened?"

"Amanda, dear, not know." Derian said as he tried once more to push the door. "Stand back,everyone. I am coming through."

"No, sir, you can't, there are still-" with a loud groaning noise the door was pushed inwards revealing a red-faced Derian and a very worried Amanda Vector.

"You were saying Mr. Potter?" Derian looked around him in the dim classroom.

It was in a bad shape. The shelves in the cupboards were either half broken, or completely splintered, very few of the numerous bottles and jars they once held still standing, most of them were in the floor, some broken, some not. To Derian that meant that the explosion had released some magic, for the protection spells in the room to be partially destroyed. Books were still smoking in their positions on the libraries or the floor, burnt parchment and ash still hovered in the air, desks were broken, the benches seemed to have been thrown in every direction, clearing a circular area that was ground zero.

There stood the offensive – he assumed – cauldron, undamaged, a small circle around it not affected by what hadbeen released, partially covered with what seemed to be a black cloth. And just a step away lay the fallen wizard, most of the students surrounding him, but one practically holding him in his arms.

"Mr. Longbottom." Derian whispered suppressing a sigh.

"He's going to expel me,isn't he?" Neville asked fearfully. Though Derian wasn't exactly certain what the student was feared most, being expelled or having to continue.

"I do not believe the Headmaster is going to let him do so." Derian said as Vector pushed past him to make her way to Snape. Almost forcefully she took the limp body from the student to her arms. "But I seriously doubt that you will attend a Potions Lecture again, Mr. Longbottom." That seemed to cheer Neville up. He didn't really like Potions anyway.

"Derian, we need to get him to Madam Pomfrey, now." Vector looked at him in such a way that he knew he had to do as she said, or else…

"Sure. We need to get all of them there anyway." Derian bent down next to her. "why don't you help the students and I'll take care of Severus."

She pushed his hand from her shoulder. "I want to be…"

"Amanda! Think, please. The explosion was obviously magically charged. Can't you feel that this room is already unstable enough without us adding magic to it? And how exactly do you propose to carry a six-foot-tall grown man all the way up to the Hospital Wing? He probably is better with as little magic as possible around him as well, at the moment."

"Fine. I'll get the children." The witch hissed at him. "Miss Granger, be so kind as to tell me what happened here. Now." She ordered the 6th year Gryffindor, as Derian raised Snape in his arms and she lead the children from the classroom to the Hospital wing.

"I'm not certain, Professor." Hermione said, biting her lips slightly. Today should have never happened.

"I am." Draco spoke up. "Longbottom messed up yet again."

"Shut up you-"

"Mister Weasley! Kindly remember that there are Professors around you." Vector cut him before she would be forced to take any points from him. Or had a fight on her hands.

"But, Professor-"

"Does Mr. Malfoy not speak the truth, then?" when she received no answer she turned back to Hermione. "You were saying?"

"Well, Neville did something wrong, but I do not know what. All seemed to be fine, when Professor Snape suddenly shouted to him to stop – I don't know what-"

"Mister Longbottom?"

"I was about to add the Salamander Powder-"

"But that wasn't in the list of ingredients." Dean Thomas protested.

"It wasn't?"

"No. Why would an illusion potion have use of one of the most potent poisons known?"

"What potion where you brewing?" Dumbledore asked, appearing suddenly next to them. With the help of Flitwick, Sprout, Sinistra and Lupin the students had all been gathered up and sent to their Common Rooms, as so he and McGonagall could join the rescue party. Derian and Vector seemed to have everything under control, though.

"The shadow illusion potion." Harry replied and felt a knot in his guts as Dumbledore gasped slightly. "Why, what is wrong? Sn-Professor Snape said it was a perfectly harmless potion.Itmakes the drinker look like a shadow for about an hour."

"Imagine, Mr. Potter," Derian spoke up from behind them, stopping for a moment to readjust his grip of the Potions Professor, "what would happen if you added Salamander Powder to it. The shadow potion is an illusion, alright. Makes you look like a shadow, but for a potent poison to be added…a poison that has a sense of fire in it, of extreme light, while shadows are darkness…what happens to a shadow when you light it, Mr. Potter?"

"It disappears."

"You mean that the drinker would disolve?" Hermione asked as she quickly put two and two together.

"Yes." The students around him gaped at him.

"He frightened me." Neville said quietly. "I dropped it all in."

"How much?"

"A spoon. A full spoon, Headmaster."

"Merlin!"

"But why would the potion explode?"

"Salamander powder, Granger. When you add it to something cold – and the illusion potion was freezing cold despite the fire beneath it –has the tendency to explode." Malfoy mimicked an explosion with his hands. They were silent the rest of the way to the infirmary.

"Not him again!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed upon seeing the Potions Master brought to her. "What happened this time?"

"What do you mean, again?" Hermione asked the question that several students were thinking.

Dumbledore smiled at how fast she caught the details. "Professor Snape was ill this weekend, Miss Granger." He informed her, not missing the knowing glances that were exchanged by his Professors and a couple of students. Slytherins mostly.

But so did Harry and stored it in his mind to be discussed with Hermione and Ron when they werenextalone. He had a feeling that something had happened this weekend and he wasn't buying the illness story. His scar had been bothering him all weekend, and he had been feeling anxious and worried, about what he knew not. And when he had first seen Snape, this morning…he had looked weird. Not ill though. Tired, yes, and more pale than usual, but not as if he had been ill.

"Poppy, I am afraid that there was an accident in the Potions Classroom. Apparently a shadow potion exploded when Salamander powder was added to it." Derian had, by this time, laid Snape down in one of the beds, while McGonagall and Vector assigned the students beds, filling the infirmary with protests, evil glares and lots of noise.

"I would have some quiet in here!" Poppy**'s** rarely seen forceful manner managed to subdue any prolonged protests, but she could alreadyfeel her head pounding from all the racket in her usually quite ward. "Thank you." She turned to the Potions Master who just lay there, his moving chest the only indication that he was still alive. It only took her a couple of seconds to figure out what was wrong with her patient. "Can anyone please tell me what kind of spells he cast?"

"He didn't." came the stunned reply after the murmuring ebbed away.

"What do you mean he didn't?" Vector asked perplexed. "You said that whatever he did probably was the reason why you were unharmed, remember? And you are all well, are you not? Had the potion affect you…he must have cast a spell of some kind."

"He didn't even have his wand out." Neville argued. "He just yelled at me, then shouted for us to step 'the hell away' from the cauldron – his words not mine."

"He covered the cauldron with his cloak." Draco said quietly.

"Yes. I saw it there, half burned." Derian agreed.

"So what?" McGonagall asked. "I mean it is just a cloak, it doesn't explain…"

"It isn't just a cloak." Draco spoke up again. "It's magicked to protect a wizard from the effects of potions. He…my father always said that Professor Snape explodes more potions than he correctly brews when he conducts his research."

The Professors tried to keep straight faces at that remark, but it was a hard task. They coughed, or turned their heads away, or looked down, or strategically placed a hand over their mouths. But it wasn't enough to stifle their snickers. All of them had in some way or another experienced one of Snape's infamous went-wrong-experiments. Either because they had had to treat him medically afterwards – Madam Pomfrey would never forget that time she'd had to remove bunny whiskers and a tail from the furious Professor – or mend some part of the castle – McGonagall and Dumbledore would always remember the time the dungeons had simply disappeared when a transporting potion exploded and sent that whole level of the school, with occupants, to the South Pole – or indeed their house. Derian cringed in the memory of his house in Wales being completely pink. Glowing pink. The walls, the floors, the ceilings, the paintings, furniture, silverware, everything. Vector, as enamored as she was of the Potion's Master, hadbeen furious about the endless hours it had taken her to remove the ash that had covered her garden, practically suffocating her flowers, after one of his winter potions malfunctioned and produced ash instead of snow.

"And he yells at me." Neville said, not knowing whether to be amused or insulted or mad at his Professor, after the unveiling of this new information, sending the Professors into worse fit**s** of coughing and snickering. The students watched perplexed and amused by this spectacle, after all how many time did they get to see their teachers soovercome? And by their severe Potions Master at that. It did have a strange impact on his image.

"Even so," Madam Pomfrey spoke up after a while, "it doesn't explain his situation."

"What is wrong with him?" Vector sobered immediately.

"Don't worry, my dear. He just fainted."

"Fainted?" McGonagall repeated with disbelief. "Why in Merlin's name would he have fainted?"

"He must have done some spell, because his magic is exhausted." Madam Pomfrey raised an eyebrow at the slight cough Derian let out. "I told you, Headmaster, he shouldn't have been up and about today. His…illness had already depleted him of much of his magic power. This I suppose was the final straw."

"But he didn't do any magic." Harry insisted.

"The cloak was glowing." Bulstrode whispered.

"What was that?"

"The cloak…when he was touching it…it glowed. And he was whispering all the time…I…I was watching him" Most of his Slytherins had been.

"I did too." Zabini agreed. All of them, since the moment they entered the Slytherin house only felt safe because of that man, with whom they knew they could discuss their troubles, who always supported them and was always there for them. All of the Slytherins took great pride in trying to return the favour. During or after school. And most of them had been told what had happened that weekend. "I think he was probably weaving some spell. I mean…how powerful the spells on the cloak were, and how powerful was that potion?"

"He didn't manage to contain the explosion, did he?" Hermione said slowly, suddenly realizing just how close to danger they had come.

"Seeing all of you are here, Miss Granger, my thought is that he filtered the potion."

"What do you mean, Derian?" Dumbledore turned at him.

"I believe that he knew that there was a very good chance he wouldn't be able to contain the potion, and probably couldn't banish it, so he used his cloak to minimize the effects of it. Probably added some spells of his own as well, to filter the magic. He allowed only pure magic to pass through the cloak, which would explain why the classroom was so affected. Very few protecting spell**s** can withstand a great amount of pure magic. Spells yes, but pure magic is a different matter altogether."

"But wouldn't he need more power to do that, rather than banish it?" McGonagall frowned in thought.

It was Dumbledore who responded. "Assuming that he used some of the magic that was coming out of the cauldron, no. I believe that Derian might have something there, Minerva. Sometimes potions seem to be rather tolerant to generic banishing spells. This, an unknown potion, he had no choice but to contain it."

"But because of what happened he couldn't." Vector finished for him. "Rather the classroom explodes and they suffer cuts and bruises, than enter a non-existing state."

"Is he going to be ok?" Dean asked feeling a bit strange now that he knew he probably owed his life to a wizard he disliked so much.

"Don't worry, dear." Madam Pomfrey told him in a soothing voice. "He only needs rest."

"Lots of it, I should imagine." Dumbledore agreed. "I think I will give him the rest of the week off." After all he needed him to be in his full power, not failing to cast even a simply containing spell.

oO0Oo

"You fainted?" Lucius is incredulous.

"I passed out."

"You fainted trying to contain a potion? You?"

"I. Passed. Out." I hiss correcting him for a second time.

"Yes, but-"

"Lucius? Do me a favour and just forget it."

"Ok, ok. I just can't believe you fainted!"

"Lucius!" I suppose I am behaving rather childish but that pillow happened to be so close to my hand.

"Professor Snape? Father?" the young voice interrupts our pillow fight, as it were, and forces us to return to the dull world of the adults.

"Mister Malfoy." I say grimacing in the thought of my Slytherins looking at me and imagining me fighting with a pillow. I really should be more careful with my surroundings.

"Draco? What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you."

"But Dumbledore…"

"…has no idea that he is here." I wave his worries away. "I thought you might want to see the boy after all this time. He wished to see you and seeing as I was to return home anyway…." I shrug. "The portkey will be activated in an hour. I am afraid any more time than that might have caused suspicion."

"Of course. Snape? I…"

"Think nothing of it." I say with as straight a face as I can, as I watch Lucius trying to move slowly towards his son, probably going against his desire to grab the boy and cover him with hugs and kisses. That is not something a Malfoy would let anyone witness. "I'll leave you two alone then."

"Sir…The L- the Dark Lord wishes to see you." Draco remembers to tell me just before I leave the room. I can't say I wasn't expecting it.

"You spoke with the Dark Lord?" Lucius asked Draco and there is a note of fear in his voice.

"Yes, father." How could he not. He was there, the Dark Lord, when I apparated both of us here. He requested a few moments alone with the boy, gently shooing me from the room. That is how I stumbled on Lucius in the first place.

I leave them alone to talk and catch up. They haven't seen each other for so long and I'd be surprised if they will be able to see each other very often from now on. And I need to discuss matters with someone else. I don't go to the Dark Lord straight away. Instead I walk through the corridors to one of the wings where no one is welcome but me and my Lord. My Library – the big one – is here, and so are my chambers. This is where I grew up, where I spent most of my time as a child and it will always feel like home to me. There are portraits in here of every single member of the Snape family dating back more than a thousand years. Selest Snape holds the central place, hanging above the fireplace in the drawing room I find myself in. She was,after all, probably the greatest Witch born to this family. And the wife of Slytherin himself.

I sit myself on the couch facing the fireplace enabling me to see the whole portrait when I rest my head back on the pillows. It is a life sized portrait, this one of hers. She is seated in a stone bench in what looks like a garden, but I know it isn't. In the background the Snape Manor is depicted in the left corner, dark and foreboding, while in the right, further in the back Hogwarts is drawn. She lived in both places after all, married to Slytherin as she was, and also a Professor at the school. Curses. She taught curses. It was not against the law then.

The sky above her is filled with lead coloured clouds, the winds chasing them around and playing also with the trees. It is those few moments before a storm. You can smell it, you can feel it, and it is so peaceful. She is looking somewhere in her right and I know there is someone there. Someone hiding behind the great oak tree. He used to come out late at night, when I was alone in the room, not yet wanting to go to bed. He used to tell me all sort of things. I always tried to come here alone. He is very shy, the man hiding in the portrait. He used to tell me stories about times long forgotten. He used to tell me about great Mages and Witches, about demons and Merlin. He used to tell me of magic and spells and Hogwarts and secrets that I should tell no one. He used to tell me about people that only lived in myths and prophesies that no one remembered. And he used to tell me all sort of embarrassing secrets regarding everyone he had ever met, or knew about. And he had known many.

He stopped coming out when I was six. He told me that it was too dangerous. I never understood why. I still don't. I know now that the man hiding behind the great Oak tree is none other than Selest's husband. None other than Slytherin Salazar. I remember them, vaguely, walking around the garden that is no garden. I remember them dancing. I think once, a few years back I saw them kissing. But I was too tired and when I magicked the lights on there was only her on her bench, sleeping. But she was flustered, her cheeks red, her hair in slight disarray and her lips swollen. And there was him slumbered on the ground almost behind the oak tree, but not perfectly hidden. Just a dark shadow.

I said nothing, trusting him to come out when he deems it safe enough. Though I cannot begin to understand what he is hiding from.

I only wished I could remember what he looked like.

It is there, his image. In the edge of my mind, I see him when I do not think of him, but the moment I do, like smoke he is gone and there is nothing in his place but a void and a sense of emptiness. Well, there is so much of that inside me that I guess it doesn't matter.

"Are you done with staring, boy?" the strict voice returns me to the real world. Though there are people out there that would not consider talking with a portrait being the real world. So much they know.

"I beg you pardon my Lady. I am afraid I was lost in memories past." She speaks the old language, mostly forgotten now, except to those of us who have roots as old as that. It is a soothing sound to my ears.

"And what memories would those be?" she is interested to find out. Selest Snape was always interested in me. In what I was doing, how I fared, what I wanted. We talked for long hours when I decided to spy for Dumbledore. And against him. I always loved her, as a boy does a grandmother, I suppose. And I always hoped I could find someone like her to call my wife when time came.

Who could fault me in this desire of mine? This portrait of hers was drawn when she was in her mid to late thirties. Times were difficult then and you can see that time has already taken its toll on her, even though she was a Witch, and not that much affected but what ailed the muggles of the time. She wears her hair long and it always reminded me a stream of blood, red as it is. He robes are of the colours of our House. The House of Snapes. Midnight blue with faint slivery blue stars sparkling in the night sky. The women of the Snape household where always the daughters of the night. Of Lilith. That first wife of Adam's. The first woman to be born and expelled from paradise because she was as powerful as him, if not more. Men, we never enjoyed a dominating woman at our side. We never wanted a woman at our side. Just beneath us. We are too stupid, I think. And too set on our ways.

"Boy!" I got lost in my thoughts again.

"I apologise my lady."

"A strange way you have to apologise indeed." She frowns at me.

"I was thinking of when I was but a small boy-"

"Because now you are all grown up." She huffs

"-and you husband would come out and tell me stories to get me to sleep." I continue not bothering to hide a smile. "I can't help but wishing I would see him again."

"My husband has his reasons, boy." I should feel annoyed with her calling me boy but then again to her I am, after a fashion, I suppose. After all, she has hung there for a thousand years.

"Still…"

"I understand. We learned what happened to you. We want to know how you are."

"We?" I ask and she turns to her right, looking into the hiding place of her husband's, and then back at me. Her black eyes shine in sincerity as she replies.

"Yes. We."

"Sometimes I don't think he cares."

"You are of his line, boy. Of course he cares." She replies sternly.

"He gave you no children." I tell her, annoyed that she would lie to me.

"And of course you were there to know, weren't you." Well, no. I wasn't. "And where do you think your beloved guardian came from?"

"Lord Voldemort?" I ask in wonder. "I once read that there was a family said to be descendent from Slytherin. Really descended from Slytherin. They were called the Gaunts. Merope Gaunt was his mother, I believe. So I would assume that he had been with another woman before you."

"Oh I am sure he has. Before and after." She whispers and I pretend not to have heard. I am quite certain that an explanation is not going to be forthcoming. "I had three children. Two daughters and a boy. The boy was from my previous marriage. The twins I had them with Salazar. He had no other children. Anyway. One of my daughters married a Malfoy and had children of her own. Her daughter married a boy from the House of Gaunt. I was told that it was a beautiful wedding and that my granddaughter looked radiant as she was united with Lord Perikalles of the House of Gaunt. I, alas, had already been drawn, so I have no memory of it." And she looks clearly sorrowful, as if she missed something important. "I really wanted that wedding to be performed inside the house. But, no…never mind a portraits wish, the wedding took place outside." She sighs. "Oh well. The point, here, being that I had children with Salazar and that your line stems from my other daughter. The one that took my place as head of the family, after I died."

I always found it disturbing the fact that were I to be married and have children, my daughter, if I had one, would one day be the Lady of the House, whether I was alive or not. Of course I can't have children being what I am, but I didn't know it always and as I said, men are quite set in their ways. It is hard to push aside years of learning of family history and traditions just because of the simple fact I died once.

I never told them.

That I am not a real Snape.

How can I be if I have no parents? No past or future. I have no idea how I came to be accepted as one. I have no idea why my Lord believes so vehemently that I am my mother's son. After all he wasn't there when I was born. No one was. I should tell them, I know. But how do you tell all of these souls, the paintings and the portraits, the ghosts residing here, the castle itself, that there has been a terrible mistake. That I am not the Heir of the great House of Snapes. I am nobody. They are not my family. And I will never produce an heir to continue their line of Witches and Wizards. Not because I don't want to, but because I can't. Because I am cursed with my Lord's dream that somehow became my nightmare.

But I will always think of them as my family. They deserve as much. And I will follow their traditions as best as I can.

"Severus?" her voice isn't scolding anymore. She looks at me with such kindness as I've rarely seen her harbouring for anyone besides Salazar and her own children.

"I am sorry, I-"

"Severus, you are of my blood." She tells me seriously. "Never forget that. You are my son as much as any of the boys born in this family. I only wish you could have met your mother. You have so many traits in common. As for my stubborn husband, he cares. He has an odd way of showing it sometimes but he does care. If you need him, he'll be there."

"Severus?" oh, hell. I close my eyes as I choose certain nasty words to berate myself with. I forgot.

"My Lord." I raise myself and turn to him. Yes, he is irritated.

"I could assume that young Malfoy didn't tell you that I wanted to speak with you, but for some reason I know it would be the wrong assumption to make." He stares at me as I hang my head in defeat.

"You would be right, my Lord. He did tell me… I-"

"You have a knack for disobeying me." He isn't tapping his foot on the floor, is he?

"I forgot, my Lord."

"You forgot?" he repeats incredulous. I suppose he would be. It's not everyday that one forgets to answer a summon**s**.

"I am to blame, young Riddle." Selest speaks from behind me. "I engaged the boy in a conversation he could hardly decline from having, and thus removed all other thoughts from his mind."

"I see." He is angry at me for forgetting. Angry at her for choosing to call him by his given name, rather than his chosen one. And yet I saw a faint smile when she called me a boy. And him young. After all we are both older than she was when the portrait was drawn.

And yet** s**he is far older than either of us. I should ask her if she knows of Derian. She must, if he taught at Hogwarts with the Founders as he claims to have. Merlin's beard, why didn't I think of that earlier? She could tell me so many things about him; maybe light the mystery that he is,just a little bit.

"Severus!" I jump at the voice. Damn it. He must have spoken to me again. "Where is your mind, boy. I said come with me. I want to speak with you."

"I…yes, my Lord. Forgive me…"

"And stop calling me your Lord, or I will act like it. And you won't like it one bit!" He turns and leaves the room clearly angry. I sigh as Selest laugh**s** behind me. Moments like this, I wonder what I did to deserve all this. Why couldn't I be a no one? It would simplify things so much.

"I think you had best hurry, Severus. He looks to be at the end of his patience. And he wants to talk to you about Draco, I think. Go on."

I don't know how she knows it, but then again I don't know a lot of things about how this place works. My house it might be, but there are still so many things left untold. I leave the room, hurrying to catch up with my Lord…no…how in heavens am I supposed to address him if not as my Lord? Just Voldemort doesn't work, and Tom would just infuriate him. He wants to make me feel closer to him, I know, but he just complicates things. I always called him sir. I might have called him father when I was very little but I haven't done so for two score years, and I am not about to start again now. It would be…ridiculous to say the least.

Argh! Sometimes I really hate my life.

oO0Oo

_Mmm…I feel should clarify something I wrote in the last chapter. When I said that I wouldn't be doing this if not for the people that review, I didn't mean write the story – I am too hooked up to stop – but I probably wouldn't be uploading it. I have no internet at the moment, and I am doing my masters degree and my student life somehow changed to 9-5 every day with weekends full of more things that I need to study. As surprising as this sounds uploading this story from my uni, as I do, presents a hell of a lot of problems. So you really want to be sending me those reviews to entice me to keep going. _

_In any case, thank you very much for your kind words, in regards with this story. I do try to do my best._


	18. Friday 17th October

_**Disclaimer:** Anything or anyone you recognise you can bet does not belong to me. _

_Many thanks to my wonderful beta, MarbleGlove without whose input this story would be seriously lacking. _

_Many thanks also to all of you people who have reviewed. Your opinions and kind words are always noted. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well._

**oO0Oo**

**Friday, 17th October**

There is mist and smoke and a smell of mould and decay surrounding him. He can only see the columns. They sprang from the greyish mist and disappeared into the darkness that is above him. He has no idea where he goes. He walks, sometimes, or he runs, but the scenery is always the same. Darkness and mist**—**no walls, no ceiling, not even floor, though he knows there is one, otherwise where is he walking on? And the silence. Not absolute, though he thinks it might have been better if it were. He can hear his footsteps as he walks. And his breath. It comes fast, scared.

And then there are the voices.

Oh, there is nothing solid, nothing he can disentangle as a unique word or sentence. It is not even continuous. Sometimes it's there, sometimes it's not. He thinks they – they? – might be calling his name, but he is far from certain. He only knows he has to keep walking. He must not stop or he will lose the light. The silvery light that hovers above him and moves. He has no idea where he is being lead to.

There is a staircase. He can almost see it. The light suddenly speeds up and disappears into the mist, diving in what he can now see for himself is a well. And the only part of this place that had some light. Even though said light seems to came from somewhere very deep within the well.

He wishes he had something in his pocket to throw in.

He read once, or did he see it in a movie – one of those days when his Uncle and Aunt were gone and his cousin had disappeared off to some corner of the street to play with some other victim – he can't really remember, but he knows that if he threw something in he could gauge the depth of the well by how long it would take for the sound of the object hitting the ground to be heard.

For some reason he fears that were he to do it we would not hear any sound at all. But that is impossible. There is no such thing as an Abyss.

He sighs, runs his fingers through his unruly hair and begins his descent. After all,where else can he go now that his light is gone? There is nothing but darkness surrounding him and he really doesn't want to wander within the shadows.

It is a long journey. Step after step after step, there is no sign of the staircase ever ending. The voices intensify but are still too mangled for him to make anything out of them. He can feel the presence of others around him. He tries to speak, to say something to dispel all those little fears but his voice is less than a whisper. There is something cold in the air that tells him that if he wants to continue his descent he had better be silent. He doesn't want to be found out. So he continues his descent, only looking up for a moment.

There is no up anymore.

As there is no down.

He feels dizzy and he turns to the grey stones of the wall for support. The staircase disappears into yellow mist both above and below, not welcoming at all.

There are images dancing on the stones. Disfigured.He looks at them fascinated trying to make some sense of them. People come and go, but they are blurred and he is unsure of what he sees. Every stone a different image, suddenly they are all around him pressing on him, suffocating him. And the voices…suddenly he knows they belong to the images. Uncountable, unending.

He keeps walking; he knows he has to keep walking.

He never reaches the bottom. If, indeed, there is a bottom.

But there is a door. A door to a dark place. Heenters. There is an altar in the middle of the room. Startlingly white, it seems to glow with an eerie light. It looks outlandish, fitting perfectly with this place, he thinks sardonically. He circles the altar only now looking at the rest of the room.

The door is gone.

Around him there are four gates and none look like the one throughwhich he entered this room. Four gates. All different but all the same. Four columns signify the entrance to each; columns that disappear into a starry sky, he knows shouldn't exist. He was descending deep underground, there can't be any sky. Plus it was raining the whole evening.

He turns his attention back to the four gates. He has to if he wants to find a way out of here. And then…something happens. There is light coming from beneath the doors. Yellow from the one on his right, blue from the one on his left and red from the one straight in front of him.

No light comes from the fourth door.

Three apparitions come forward, each from their own door, each tinged with a bit of colour in their aura. They hover in the middle of the four columns, in front of their doors, not wanting, or not allowed, to move any further. One is a male of medium height, wearing a long brown robe and a red cape, his hair auburn. Two are women, one thin and tall, with black hair falling to the ground wearing a blue dress, the other plump in her yellow dress. Her smile is kind and welcoming.

"The Founders!" the voice does not belong to him. It is too hissing, too cold.Nonetheless, it is also familiar. With a start he turns to face Lord Voldemort, but he knows that he is safe. As long as he doesn't speak. So long as he makes no noise.

The Dark Lord stares at the three apparitions before him, a slight smile on his lips. Harry suddenly realises that he looks almost normal. For a Dark Lord that is. He has grey hair almost two inches long, and pale, translucent skin and even a nose, thin and long but it is there. Only Voldemort's red eyes remind Harry of the cruelty that this man is capable of. They are cold and empty of any emotion other than desire for power. The Dark Lord pays him no attention.

"So the book had it right." He whispers, a bonny finger playing with his white lips. "There is such a chamber. In Hogwarts."

Hogwarts? Harry mouths. This doesn't look like Hogwarts to him. And Voldemort already knew of the Chamberof Secrets. He had been the one to open it some fifty years ago.

"What are you still doing here?"

"We are the Guardians." The three do not move, neither do they speak and yet the answer is clear and voiced by three different voices that sound as if they are coming from very far away. Harry hides a smile, thinking that considering who these people – ghosts – are it is only normal.

"Of the school I imagine." The Dark Lord gets no answer, but he doesn't really need one. "But where is the fourth? Why are his chambers not alight?"

Both Harry and the Dark Lord turn to stare at what they know to be the grave of the fourth founder. Of Slytherin Salazar. It remains dark.

"The living- "Are not to be found- "Among the dead." The founders patch the sentence together between them.

"But, surely, you must know that it has been a thousand years since your time." Lord Voldemort argues.

"You want to speak with him"

"We would warn you against it"

"He is not of the dead"

"You speak in riddles." Voldemort frowns. "I am his Heir. I want to talk to him."

"To call the undying- "Sacrifice you must - "That which gives life."

"I will Sacrifice." Voldemort speaks the phrase that has been necessary for so many of his studies.

"Then so be it" all three again and then they are gone.

And there is silence and darkness and only the white altar, himself and Voldemort. He wasn't certain what the Founders had meant and it seems that neither does Voldemort for he looks upwards a slight frown on his brows.

"That which gives life." He whispers and then looks at the altar. There is a dagger on it that hadn't been there before, Harry could swear. "Then so be it." The Dark Lord repeats and takes hold of the dagger. With one fluid motion he cuts his palm and lets the drops of precious red liquid mar the whiteness of the altar.

"The sacrifice has been made." The voice is heard in the air and the blood shines once and then disappears. Green light appears from behind the last door. Very soon both the wizards have to cover their eyes as the light becomes stronger and stronger until all seems white and then…nothing. Just an open gate waiting for them to cross.

He waited for the Dark Lord to go through first. He didn't know how he knew it but he wouldn't have been able to enter otherwise. He follows closely behind and finds himself in a cosy room that looks completely out of place. There is a roaring fire in the middle of one wall, before which is a table of dark rosewood, beautifully carved, with a matching chair occupiedby a hooded figure. The desk itself is covered by an assortment of papers, folders and books. The floor around it is in the same state, so much so that Harry feels the urge to pick things up and tidy a little bit. It is a wonder how anyone could live like this.

He moves closer noticing that the Dark Lord is seated on a chair opposite the stranger who hasyet to acknowledge their presence. But when thefigure speaks, Harry neither jump**s** nor is surprised. Only perhaps he thinks how dreams are weird this way, for he knows this voice, low and smooth and somehow barely able to suppress – or hide – that dangerous underlying tone that makes his hair rise every time he hears it. He has heard this voice before but he can't quite remember where.

"Why come here?" the man asks, still bent over his book, never ceasinghis writing. "Why try to unveil the past? It's gone. Let it rest with the dead. Forgotten." Harry looks on as the Dark Lord sits unmoving, listening enthralled with each word this man speaks as if it were the most important thing in the world. And maybe it is.But Harry doesn't know. Doesn't understand. For him it is like a weird play taking place in front if him, only he somehow seems to be involved in it. The past six years have felt much the same way.

"You seek the knowledge and power of a Wizard that was never a Wizard. You seek a man who has been many, is many and will be many more. You are not of his people, even though his blood runs in your veins. You are now; you were nothing yesterday and will be nothing tomorrow. How are you worthy to even glance upon him?

"Leave the past; it has secrets and truths better left forgotten. They are not what you want them to be. Knowing them makes you none the wiser and grants you no power. The only gift will be the bitter taste of knowledge that you don't want and can't forget, that you can't unlearn."

Harry listens the soft shuffling of the robes of the Wizard feared by everyone and fearing only Dumbledore and Harry, himself. He looks on as the powerful wizard lowers his head, acknowledging the truth of the words spoken and feels…somehow he feels he understands and it worries him. Harry doesn't want to be able to understand a monster.

"You will not stop searching, that I know, but what will you do when what you find is not what you want? One never finds what one wants, which is why the truth is always hidden, altered to fit the preferences of those who rewrite the past, those who control the present. You look for a cursed gift. So tantalisingly close to you and yet you will not see the trap until it is too late. Nothing comes without rules, without a price. And some things carry a price too great to pay, except perhaps for those who have no other choice. You have a choice."

The man stops writing and raises his head. Beneath the hood the shadows dance revealing a pale angular face with a goatee that makes him look like the devil. Or the fourth founder. Green-gold eyes flash in amusement as he speaks.

"A warning to you who are of my Blood, from Hogwarts below no one returns who wanders awake. Some secrets are too important to be told. Some truths are too bitter to be known. Leave the forgotten with the dead or you will join them—dead and forgotten."

Harry listens but doesn't truly hear. He is looking past the alien goatee and different bearing of the figure and into the playful eyes of a man he knows only too well.

"Professor Derian?" he whispers, unable to keep silent and suddenly there is nothing. Absolutely nothing. No cosy room, no gates or staircase or even mist. Just darkness and the Dark Lord who looks as snakey and slippery as always and who is looking at him and is clearly very, very angry.

"Harry Potter, kindly tell me, please, what are you doing in my head?" the voice,cold and authoritative, snaps Harry back to reality. "I do not remember allowing you to wander in here."

"I-"

"You."

"I-"

"Get OUT!"

**oO0Oo**

Harry woke with a start, his scar throbbing a little bit. He sits up on his bed and looks out the window. It is still dark and it is still raining. He can hear the soft – or not so soft in some cases – snoring of his fellow Gryffindors, peacefully sleeping, undisturbed by worries. He is drenched in sweat, but then again he just met the Founders and Voldemort, and…was it really a dream? It felt so real. Had he really been peeking into Voldemort's mind? Had he really just shared a dream with the Dark Lord?

"Oh, hell." He groans and falls back on his pillow. He would go to Dumbledore in the morning. It wasn't that pressing after all. Unless Professor Derian really was Slytherin.

**oO0Oo**

He had been wishing for this moment for a very long time. He had started casting the summoning spells again just a few weeks ago even thoughhe didn't think it would accomplish anything. It never had in years past. But this time something felt subtly different. He wasn't quite certain what it was yet, but it was there nevertheless. And this time he had an anchor as well. Something to begin from. A name and an image. Something concrete to use to call the greatest of the four. The summoning spell he had used was a complicated one. Very powerful. It took him an hour to weave it and he had been heavily depleted afterwards. But it would have been worth it, if only it had been successful.

It hadn't been.

And so he had been surprised when he found himself walking through the familiar hallways of Hogwarts. Descending from the known parts of the dungeons to parts of the castle he hadn't been aware of. He was stunned to find the resting place of the Founders, a place that, if it even existed, no one knew. Many thought that wherever their tombs were they had long ago been destroyed. But he had found them where they hid beneath the ground, all this time. Beneath the very foundations of the school itself. He hadn't known what to believe when he actually spoke with three of them. He didn't know what to make of what the fourth had told him.

And then Potter spoke.

Not once had he thought that it was a dream. Until then.

For a few moments he had stood there, for once watching rather than being watched, as the silly boy destroyed his dream, his revelation by recognising the Fourth Founder as a Professor of his. A professor of now, rather than then. Clearly, the dream had been corrupted by the desires and fears of the boy.

Thus the Dark Lord of this age woke up, a frown settling in his brow, determined to do something about all that I-can-peak-into-your-mind business first thing next morning. And promising himself that he would stop reading that book on Slytherin just before he went to bed. It seemed to be influencing his dreams in the most peculiar of ways.

**oO0Oo**

Gold-green eyes snapped open in the darkness of the room. For a while the only thing heard was the laboured breathing coming from the man in the bed. Still, as if a movement might cause something to happen – something bad – Methos forced his breathing to a more relaxed rhythm, as the images of the dream flashed back at him.

He had been forced to talk. He had been forced to reveal secrets that were his alone. He had been trapped in a dream that was not his own and he hadn't been able to escape from it until the moment the boy had recognised him. Until it had been too late. He had spoken of things that he meant never to speak ofand he had become known to people to whom he didn't want to be known.

He released the bed sheets from his death grip, red marks hidden in the cover of darkness. Pain usually anchored him to reality, but the spell had been too strong and too unexpected. His eyes hardened into golden orbs as the image of a woman came to his mind. A woman that had stared at him from above the fireplace while he spoke to the dark wizard in his dream.

Methos sat up in the middle of his bed abruptly, anger colouring his voice as he cried out one name.

"CASSANDRA!"

**oO0Oo**

**Saturday, 18th October**

**Snape Manor**

I fix my eyes in front of me and keep my feet to the path so that I do not stray. I know I am being watched. Everyone is in this castle. I tell myself that I am a Black and a Malfoy and I have an invitation to this manor. It does not diminish my unease. The paintings, unmoving when any of us that don't belong here pass, keep their eyes glued on me as I make my way to my Lord. It is upsetting to say the least, this feeling that they do not approve what is happening here. It seems strange that one would feel threatened by them, they are only paintings, but there have been stories…. There have always been stories surrounding this castle, this family. The Snapes.

There is a village in England that is called Snape. When we were students, years ago and at Hogwarts, I was intrigued by a first-year Slytherin and in my tries to delve into the past of his family I stumbled upon it. I even found out about the Manor. It was derelict. I asked him about it and he only ever said that his family had left that place hundreds of years ago. They must have been something, for the muggles to remember them still. Even if they don't quite know what the Snapes were.

Not many things are known about the family. Or what is known is too close to myth and legend to be considered reliable. Though, I suppose, in the magical world myths and legends are usually closer to history than most would be comfortable with. It is an ancient family, its history purposely forgotten as newer families tried to establish their hold of society. A hold that once belonged to the Snapes.

My research has led me to believe that it was after Selest Snape chose to marry Salazar Slytherin that the whole family decided it was time to withdraw from the spotlight. They would continue controlling situations in a more secretive way, behind the scenes. Some say it was because of the disagreement between Gryffindor and Slytherin, others say that Selest found something. Something so important, so powerful, that she decided the best way to protect it was to convince the world that it didn't exist. That it was a legend, a myth. And the best place to hide it was the Snape Manor.

And so the castle disappeared, a muggle Mansion decaying in the place where it originally stood. The castle, that no one can find unless one knows where it is, integrated itself into the localfolklore. I was, thus, quite surprised to find myself walking its corridors as I rose in rank. Very few actual meetings take place here. It would be too much to ask from the legal occupants of the castle. Be they flesh or not. Only the inner circle ever comes here. And as of late, those that have no place else to go as well.

When we were students, so many years ago, I asked him what of his parents? He always sidestepped the question or remained tight-lipped in his refusal to answer. His parents. Well, they were Snapes, that much is obvious, and I remember my mother telling me about a Snape she knew as a student. Whoever that was, he or she doesn't exist anymore. Not even in paper. Nowhere. And I have searched long and hard, but someone took great pain**s** to erase all that was known of the most recent members of this family. They certainly are not here, his parents, and I am quite willing to bet that they are dead. If they still resided in this castle we must have seen them by now. We haven't. And as for Severus…his eyes always took a peculiar hue when we were younger, when we were in Hogwarts and someone mentioned his parents. And I think, now, that it maybe because he had no parents to speak of even at that time.

Which of course raises the question of who raised him.

The door on my right is slightly ajar and I can see light coming from it and voices. I know that this is where I am supposed to be but I stop just before I enter. I don't really know why. I believe I know what the Dark Lord wants to talk to me about, namely Draco, and I would rather not have this conversation.Ever. Don't do me wrong. My Lord is powerful and wise but he has little to no regard for most of his servants'lives. He feels, and I agree, that if someone is so stupid as to get caught then he or she deserves what they get, even if that is death. But this is my son we are talking about. And my husband. They are not just random people to me. They are my world and I want them safe and well.

I keep hesitating before the door when the voices inside become disentangled and suddenly I find myself easing closer, interested in what is being said…

**oO0Oo**

Engel stares at me with disbelief from the armchair opposite me. She bends a bit lower, causing her white stream of hair to fall over her shoulder rather graciously as she picks up her teacup. I have the urge to recite poetry to her but I stop myselfat the last minute. This is not the time. Or the place, for that matter. The time would have to be a breaking morning and the place in my bedroom. My bed to be exact. Certainly not now.

"And you believe her?" she asks me, quite unaware of what is going on in my mind. "She is just a snake after all."

"I do." I reply simply. "And she is not just a snake. She is a hundred years old. And she has magic running in her blood."

"Hmm" she says, unconvinced.

"Engel, what if Nagini is right?" and there is a slight apprehension in my voice which she perceives.

"I do not know, Tom. Can she be right? I know that there is a lot that isn't what it looks to be, but Severus? The boy is powerful, certainly, and brighter than is wise, still… Can he win you this war? Is he what your snake claims him to be? Do such people, creatures, exist in our days? I simply do not know." I sigh. I don't know what to believe either, which is why I asked her opinion, but she is not helping.

"And then I dreamed last night." I tell her.

"You too? I dreamed I was a little girl again and found a dragon egg that looked just a tiny bit bigger than a chicken egg and I made a nest from pillows in the guest room in our house and it hatched and a dragon was born."

"Really?" I ask her, intrigued by her dream. Dragons are not creatures that dwell in dreams very often. And if they choose to…no one ever knows how to interpret their presence. It can be good or bad, it is not known before the dream comes true, but most agree that whatever is to happen will be a surprise.

"Yes, and the dragon laid eggs in the same nest, only now it was dirt and feathers in a basket surrounded by pillows on the bed, under the covers. And the dragon laid on them keeping them warm. And I went there and took some of them even as the dragon tried to repel me, and I took them outside on the balcony and broke one – I had four – on the stone and waited for the sun to fry it, because it was a very warm and sunny day. And the gardener looked from the garden below and he said something, I don't remember what, but he made me feel very sorry because I realised I had just killed a baby dragon. So I took the rest of the eggs, and with my sister, she was there suddenly, went back in the room and tried to put the eggs back in the nest.

"And we did so. We took away the covers and the pillows and found the basket and put theeggs back in, but two of them were broken, and I was afraid they wouldn't make it but my sister promised that they would be okay. So we put the pillows back in their place, and covered the nest with the duvet and left in search of the dragon-mother to tell her how sorry I was."

"You dreamed all that?" I ask her surprised. It was certainly a disturbing dream. And I wasn't aware that she had a sister.

"Yes, and therewas more." She says me trying to remember and I listen to her because her voice is so beautiful and her eyes look so sad. I find myself getting up and transfiguring the armchair she sits on into a couch and I sit myself next to her, one arm around her, drawing her closer to me as she keeps talking. "My mother came in. She was a beautiful lady,my mother. Not very tall, and rather plump but she had a heart of gold. Anyway, she came in the room and wanted some things we had stored under the bed. It was a double bed, built on the floor," she explains when I frown slightly. "I told her, I told her to be careful. I told her,'take whatever you want but don't disturb the nest,' and she promised she wouldn't but then she pushed the mattress the nest was on and it fell and I could see the basket and the eggs where all broken inside and I cried and my sister tried to console me but I didn't listen. I just picked up the basket and took it outside and poured the broken eggs in a shallow hole I dug and covered them. And the dragon was above me and she was wailing because she knew, she knew I had killed her babies. And I felt terrible because no parent should live longer than their children, but then I thought I saw one last egg, amidst the broken ones in the hole, and it was fine. And I knew that it would give birth to a dragon and…"

"And what?"

"And then you called me and I woke up." She finishes with a displeased frown. Ah. That would explain why she was late. And irritated.

"I am sorry."

"It was only a dream." But she is shivering slightly I can feel, holding her as close to me as I do.

"Your son died six years ago, didn't he?" In retrospect, I probably shouldn't have said that. She stiffens in my arms and she turns to look at me coldly.

"A dragon killed him because he went after her eggs." She tells me and now I can understand the dream.

"I see."

"So what did you dream about?" she asks when I say nothing more.

"Oh, nothing as interesting." I reply. "Just that I found a secret chamber in Hogwarts where the Founders' tombs were and I spoke to three of them requesting to see Slytherin, who apparently is not dead but alive and well, and I was asked for my blood to enter his tomb, and I gave it."

"Not as interesting, he says." She mumbles. "So did you see him?"

"Yes. He was in this very cosy, very untidy little room and he told me things that are very confusing: how I shouldn't be searching for the truth because I wouldn't like what I would find, and that I have my answer, my goal next to me but I won't realise it until it is too late, those sort**s** of things. Oh, Potter was also there and he identified Slytherin as one of his Professors."

"Only that?" she asks sarcastically. "Really, Tom," and I think with mock despair of how she is the only other person alive besides Severus allowed to not call me Lord. Besides Dumbledore who will do anything he wants in any case. Well, she is allowed and it would be stupid not to, considering we went to school together. "I can't imagine how you can bear your dreams. They are so mundane."

"So you have an explanation?"

"Indeed. I think you are very stressed. I think that your subconscious is trying to tell you that you are trying too hard,that you are so certain you are going to fail that you can't see what is under your nose."

"And what would that be?"

"That you are going to win. If you are a bit more careful, perhaps." She says and I feel a great weight lifting from my chest. But my palm stings as I rub her thigh – when did I start doing that anyway?

"How do you explain this, then?" I show her my palm and there is a knife wound across it, looking rather recent, even if it is not bleeding. "And the Potter brat. I didn't dream about him, he really was with me in my dream."

"This most certainly complicates matters" she says as she moves her finger along the scabs, looking at it and then at me and I find myself bending a forward, searching for her lips and she is not moving, neither welcoming nor retreating and I-

There is a knock on the door and we sprang apart.

"Come in." I say as I walk back to my armchair behind the desk wanting to maim or kill whoever it is that interrupted us, but it is Narcissa that enters, elegant as always and I can't say anything. Since it was I who requested her presence here.

**oO0Oo**

"Come in" comes the voice from inside the room, filled with a bit of frustration, which I understand. After all I just interrupted an intimate moment, but rather that than witnessing it. My Lord is very capable in finding what his servants know.

"My Lord." I enter the room and kneel briefly, as is proper, before he gestures me to sit next to Engel Dolohov, who seems to be climbing up the ranks in a rather unexpected way. "Lady Engel." I greet her and she smiles back at me, her blue eyes missing nothing. I respect this woman. Older than me and very powerful, she has stayed in the shadows behind her husband during the first war, her name was never implicated in any of our actions, though I know she played an important role.

"Narcissa, I called you here today because there is a matter I want to discuss with you, as I feel it concerns your family."

"Draco, my Lord?" I ask simply and he smiles satisfied.

"I take it that the boy hasn't really said anything, has he?"

"My son is not a fool, my Lord. You instructed him not to say anything, but his father learned that you talked to him and he told me." And neither am I a fool. If my Lord wanted to see me so soon after talking to my son and causing him so much distress, then it must be about what he was ordered to do.

"Indeed he is not."

"My Lord, would you prefer I waited elsewhere?" Engel says, and it is back to 'my Lord' now, I notice.

"No, Engel. It's okay. I want both of you to know of this. I asked Draco to kill Dumbledore." I am speechless. And very, very scared. My son…Draco, he is too young, he can't possibly…he hasn't ever killed another human being, he can't…

"Of course he will fail." Lord Voldemort goes on, seeing my stunned expression. "Your son thinks it is because I am dissatisfied with his father. He thinks he has to do this, otherwise Lucius life is forfeit.

"But he thinks wrong." Engel says from next to me and it takes me a while to understand what she said. He thinks wrong. I restrain the urge to prostrate myself at my Lord's feet and plead for both my husband's and my son's lives. I need more information.

"Indeed." And now he looks straight at me. "Listen, Narcissa. This, I admit,is a very dangerous game, especially for your son. But I wouldn't ask this of him if I didn't know that he would succeed in what I need him to do and escape without any harm done to him."

"You send him to kill Dumbledore…my Lord." I speak a bit hysterically probably. "You said yourself he will fail. And what then? What if he is caught? He will surely been thrown in Azkaban! And if he come back here? Will you kill him or his father for failing this impossible task? My Lord." He has the nerve to smile at me.

"He won't be caught, and I won't be killing either him or Lucius. They are too precious to waste like this."

"But then…I do not understand."

"Severus will kill Dumbledore and I am in need of your service to ensure that he will." I stare at him dumbfound as does Engel next to me. Neither of us say a word, certain that he will elaborate. "Severus cares for your son, does he not?"

"Indeed, my Lord. He was there when Draco was born. He has been there all of his life."

"Exactly. So whose life do you think will matter most to him? Draco's or Dumbledore's?"

"My Lord…I have no idea." I stammer. "If my Lord thinks that Snape is on our side, as you have stated so often, then why this trickery? Why not just order him to do it straight out?"

"She has a point." Engel agrees with me.

Lord Voldemort frowns in thought for a moment before beginning what I hope is an explanation. "It started in 1977. I wanted someone close to Dumbledore. I wanted someone to tell me what he was thinking, what he was doing to oppose me. It is well known after all that he had his hand in manymatters." I nod. "So I asked this of Severus."

"You asked Severus to spy against Dumbledore?" Engel asks and I feel better knowing that I am not the only one surprised.

"Yes. I told no one else, of course, for it would be a very dangerous mission even without the chance of betrayal."

"But he must have been just out of Hogwarts at that time." Engel protests.

"Twenty-two. He was twenty-two." I tell her.

"Yes. Some years after Hogwarts but Dumbledore would still remember him."

"But I still don't understand. Dumbledore didn't particularly like Snape, back when we were in school." I tell him. Severus certainly had no love lost for the old man.

"How much do you know of the Snapes, Narcissa?"

"Not very much." I reply. It is odd that he asks me this question only minutes after I was thinking about their family history. Then again, I always think of their history when I am in this castle.

"Severus' Grandmother was a shy Witch called Serena. She went to Hogwarts before any of us were born. She fell in love with a young Wizard who was teaching there, against the wishes of her family. But she didn't care, and neither did he, for he returned her feelings. They waited till she was of age and then they announced that they would marry. Only the wizard she loved left a few days later, as he was accepted for an apprenticeship by a very old and famous wizard, Nicolas Flamel. They decided, Serena and the Wizard that they would get married after he finished his studies, since to be accepted by someone as powerful as Flamel was very important and it was sure to impress her family.

"While he was studying the secrets of alchemy, Serena's family found the chance to marry her off to another wizard, whose name I never found. Her old flame, then, retuned after some years, victorious, to find that she was happily – well, maybe not that much – married anyway. Rumours would have them sleeping together occasionally, for that is allowed in the Snape family, and some said that her only child, a daughter, was his, but in truth no one knows. Another custom of this family is to speak the name of a child's father only to the child, and usually at themother's deathbed."

"So who was the lover?" Engel asks but I think she has guessed and only waits for a confirmation. I, on the other had, am in the dark still.

"Albus Dumbledore." I choke. And I cough, and stare at them not believing a word.

"You mean to say that Severus' grandfather is Dumbledore?" I ask him, momentarily forgetting who I am speaking to.

"Well, that is one theory. I do not know, and to be honest I don't really believe it. What interests me most is that Dumbledore always seemed to have, let's say,a soft spot when it came to the members of the Snape family."

"Mmm, I remember as much from school, and his behaviour towards Selene Snape." Engel says and then bites her lip as Lord Voldemort immediately changes his bearing. He becomes darker somehow, and it seems to me that he tries to hide some deep emotion that lies hidden within him. There is a story there, but it is not for my ears, I know. I bow my head seemingly – I hope – thinking of all that hasbeen said, not noticing the sudden shift in atmosphere of the room.

"Yes." He hisses. "He seems to have a soft spot for Severus as well. Maybe dueto a love long gone. I do not know. But it proved useful. Severus agreed to it and began giving him information secretly."

"You mean he passes information about our…"

"Yes. He became the traitor, so many believe him to be. At my orders."

"But why? Couldn't he just – I don't know – go to the school and get a position as a teacher like he has now?" Engel ask**s**, but I find I know the answer already. Really when you know most of the facts it's not that difficult to figure it out.

"It wouldn't have done anything for us, would it?" I say. "Better that Dumbledore gets a spy suddenly, someone that asks for nothing in return, someone who seems earnest in his attempt to help fight against the Dark Lord, rather than just a simple Professor, who could be what he claims to be or not."

"Indeed. That is what he thought and I agreed to his plan." Lord Voldemort confirms.

"So then something happened when Dumbledore found out who his spy was." I say, thinking when that would have been.

"He was caught by Aurors in '78, wasn't he?" Engel speaks up. Now that she too understands what was happening then, some old memories return to mind.

"Yes. He told Dumbledore of a raid that he led. A simple one, against a muggle family. The Aurors apparated to the scene and captured three of the four Death Eaters. Lucius was the one to come back."

"I remember," I tell him, nodding. "He was surprised that you didn't care that Snape was caught. He said he could understand about the other two dunderheads, but your apparent lack of interest in what would happen to your Potions Master, one of the most brilliant men you had, worried him."

"He thought that I might be getting rid of those who were closest to me?" He asks and I nod again. Lucius had been in the inner circle even then.

"It was part of the plan. Severus remained in Azkaban for three or four months, before the Headmaster finally realised that something was probably wrong with his spy, since the information stopped coming."

"So, of course," Engel **s**peaks up, "he investigates the matter, what has happened in the past four months, and he finds out that there are three Death Eaters caught. And since at the time they kept the names of those who were apprehended secret in hopes of hindering you, he hadto go to Azkaban himself to find out who they were."

"Exactly. From there it was simple. Severus played him easily, and Dumbledore began thinking that this was a sad man, disillusioned of what I had to offer, who helped him until it all got to be too much and he needed out. That he wanted to die. Fortunately,or so Dumbledore thought, his plan didn't go as planned, for the Aurors didn't kill him, as he hoped they would, but imprisoned him. And now he was alive, relatively well,and in the hands of Dumbledore the Great who could nurse him back to health and give him a chance to absolve his numerous crimes."

"Spy against you." Engel says, a smile crippling on her face. "That was a dangerous game he played, Severus. And am I wrong to think he keeps playing it?"

"No, you are not. But I feel it is time to end it though he still enjoys the game and would choose to stay where he is. Thus he must be given a little push to get him out of the rut into which he has fallen." Is this the real reason, I wonder? We all of us, Death Eaters, know that there is a special bond between Snape and Lord Voldemort, but why does the Dark Lord not give an order to Snape, as he would to any of us, and instead creates such an elaborate plan to trap him? Is he afraid that the man won't obey him? That he has, maybe, grown fond of Dumbledore? Or is he afraid of what he will have to do to him is Snape refuses to comply? "So we come back to your mission, Narcissa." And his attention is all back at me.

"Whatever you want of me, my Lord." I say and I mean it. If he can play with the life of a person for whom he seems to have a certain affection, I cannot expect him to treat my family any better. My Lord doesn't loose sleep over those in his ranks who are lost. It is better to succeed. Then perhaps he will pay you back. He generally gifts those of us who give him all with unsurpassed generosity.

"I want you to go to Severus, before he has to return to Hogwarts on Monday, and plead with him. I want you to make him promise you, no, I want you to have him swear an UnbreakableVow that he will help your son in his task and that he will complete it if Draco seems likely to fail."

Once again I am speechless.

"He doesn't know then?" Engel asks,giving me some time to think things over. "About Draco's mission."

"He knows. So he will hold his life and Draco's life in one hand and in the other Dumbledore's." Lord Voldemort says and I can appreciate why he is so gleeful. If Snape swears the oath, our Lord will have played him excellently and will have pushed him in to a tight corner. There is really only one thing he will be able to do then. If I succeed.

"I will need help." I say.

"What help? I want no one else to learn of this." Lord Voldemort orders me. "If too many people know, the secret will be up."

"I don't want to tell the secret, but the cover story. And I want to tell it to Bella. And I want her to come with me." A smile is rising on my face that very soon is reflected on both of theirs. They know what I am planning to do. And why I need Bella. If there is one person among us who can annoy and irritate Severus in ten seconds flat, that is Bella. With her pompous air and sense of superiority. Having her next to me, goading him, forcing him to prove his loyalty to our Lord, while I play the distraught wife and mother with him as her last hope…we have some chance of succeeding.

"I like the way you think." My Lord says and rises, signifying the end of this conversation. Both Engel and I rise with him. "See that you do it." He tells me. I bow slightly and exit the room, conscious that Engel is not following me.

This has been a day of revelations and I have a lot to think about. For now, though, I go in search of my sister.

**oO0Oo**

_Well you read. You judged. Time to let me know the results. _

_Till next time…_


	19. Saturday 18th, Hogwarts

_**Disclaimer: **None of the characters belong to me, except perhaps Nebet even if not the idea of her._

_Hello! Long time not seen, people. I hope you have not forgotten all about this story. I finished my final year exams just a week ago, so…_

_Enjoy!_

oO0Oo

**Saturday, 18th October**

**Headmaster's Office**

"Ah Harry. Here you are. Ready to continue our lessons?" Harry jumped slightly. He hadn't realised that he had reached the top of the moving stairs to Dumbledore's office.

"Yes, Headmaster." Then again it wasn't so surprising that he was distracted what with having so many things to think about and settle in his mind.

"Good, good." The Headmaster ushered him into his office. It took Harry only a few moments of deliberation before he spoke what was in his mind.

"Sir? I had a dream the other night…"

"Did your scar hurt you? Why didn't you come here immediately?" Dumbledore leaned forward at his desk and peered at Harry over his glasses, as if to determine if he was alright or not.

"That's the thing Headmaster. It didn't hurt and I thought it was just a dream, only the more I think about it the more I wonder."

"Why do you say that?" asked Dumbledore clearly perplexed.

"Well, I saw Voldemort, sir. Talking with Slytherin, so it had to be a dream, right? Only it was…I don't know. I think it was a dream, only not mine."

"You saw a dream Voldemort was dreaming?" Dumbledore said doubtfully.

"I think so. Because it ended when he heard me and he told me that he hadn't given me permission to enter his head and that I should get out." Which had been surreal, to say the least.

"It is possible I suppose. He was speaking to Slytherin, you say?"

"Well mostly Slytherin was doing the talking. But sir, it was somewhere in Hogwarts. It was a weird room where all the founders were buried, only Slytherin wasn't, the others said that he couldn't die-"

"The others, Harry?

"The Founders. And when we entered Slytherin's tomb, well it was like an office and Slytherin was there and told Voldemort stuff, like how he should stop searching for the truth as there is a reason why it is hidden, and that the winners write the history, what ever that meant."

"Well, it does sound like a dream Voldemort would have. Idolising Slytherin as he does, it is, I suppose, to be expected that he would dream about him giving instructions and advice."

"That is what I thought as well, sir, but then why did Slytherin look exactly like Professor Derian?" Finally Harry said aloud what was bothering him the most. That Voldemort thought Slytherin looked like a Professor in Hogwarts. A current one at any rate.

"…"

"Sir?" Harry said tentatively. After all it was a very rare occurrence that anyone would happen to see Headmaster Dumbledore, of all people, stunned.

"I am sorry, Harry. I am just…" speechless. And he didn't know what to think either. Dumbledore settled back in his chair, one hand caressing his long beard as if that would help him concentrate and lead him to an answer. It did at times. Voldemort, a dream, Harry and Professor Derian Deofol. That was an odd combination, he thought. Well, not the first three but Derian? "And you are absolutely certain that it wasn't your dream." He asked again.

"Yes, sir. I was so surprised I spoke aloud and that was when Voldemort noticed me." Harry told him taking a sip from a hot mug of cocoa that Dumbledore had conjured immediately after they had sat down.

"I see." Dumbledore thought of his discussion with Snape that first day of term, after the two Professors had returned from Diagon Alley.

-----

"_So Severus…how was your afternoon?"_

"_Interesting, Headmaster."_

"_And what about your friend? Did he find a wand?"_

"_Indeed, Headmaster."_

"_Tell me Severus, who is he really? How did he lose his wand? Can I trust him, Severus?"_

"_You will have time to realise, Headmaster, I am certain, that Derian will rarely do what he is asked to do, only does what it pleases him to do and that is usually the last thing anyone expects him to do."_

"_Is that a no, then, Severus? You had me hire someone so unpredictable?"_

"_I believe I had you do no such thing, Headmaster. I only asked him to send his credentials. It was you who decided he was worthy of the position. And in any case Headmaster, Derian will protect his charges if need be. I have no doubt of that."_

_-------_

"I mean," Harry said, "I know that Slytherin is long dead, at least I hope so, but why of all the people that he could look like did it have to be Professor Derian? I was reading Who is Who in magical communities, Headmaster, and it says in there that Derian Deofol was a Dark Lord. One that had no decedents."

"You think that Professor Derian is lying." Dumbledore stated.

"Yes. And not just because of the dream. I…I overheard Professor Snape calling him Michael."

"Really?"

"Yes. And, well, Professor Derian let us know, on the train to Hogwarts, that he knew Professor Snape quite well. My mom and dad also."

"I have to admit I wasn't aware of that. Professor Snape hasn't been forthcoming with information about Professor Derian." In fact, if he were to admit to himself, Snape had told him precious little about Derian. "I believe it was in an effort to quash rumours that Derian was hired on his recommendation."

"Was he, Headmaster?"

"Hmm? No, Harry. Not at all. All Professor Snape ever told me and the Staff was that he knew of someone that would be good for the job and that he would ask him to send me his credentials. He gave me no name whatsoever. I hired Derian because he really was the best of the candidates. Which I must admit doesn't say a lot considering the rest of the candidates we had for the position." Dumbledore grimaced thinking all those hours he spent interviewing and going through papers of people totally unfit to teach anything, much less Ethics.

"But still, Professor Snape called him Michael. And he admitted that Professor Snape would never have done so if he thought someone could overhear them."

"Am I to understand you were wandering around the castle in your father's invisibility cloak, yet again?"

"Yes?" Harry said trying to inject a bit of guilt in his expression. Dumbledore sighed but let it go. After all this was Harry Potter and there were more important things to consider than the boy breaking a school rule.

"You know, it could be just a dream that Voldemort was having but was altered because you participated in it as well." Dumbledore said after a moment of thinking.

"You mean because I don't trust Professor Derian I associated him with Slytherin in the dream, what with both of them being Dark Lords?"

"Essentially, yes." Dumbledore said.

"I thought so as well, but somehow it doesn't fedl right." Harry sighed. He really wished he could explain it better. He simply had a very bad feeling about Professor Derian. And of course Snape, but he wasn't going to say anything on that. He knew that the Headmaster trusted him and that nothing would convince him to stop.

"Well, Harry, I am afraid there is precious little that we can do about it." Dumbledore sighed. "I think for the moment it is better if we continued with our lessons."

"But sir, you admitted yourself that there are a lot of things that you don't know about Professor Derian. Wouldn't it be prudent to-"

"To look into it?" Dumbledore finished his sentence. "I believe it is." He nodded. "Do not worry, Harry, I will make some inquiries about the man, though if he has indeed lived his life as a Muggle, I am afraid there won't be many things to find."

"It is just a bit too convenient, that's all." Harry said and the matter was dropped, for the moment at least. After all, there were many things that needed to be done and too little time to do them in.

oO0Oo

**Sunday, 19th October**

**Hospital Ward. **

Madam Pomfrey sighed as she took a sip from the steaming cup of tea she held lovingly in her cupped hands. It had been such a quiet day. None of those little buggers – she knew she was agreeing with the notorious Potions Master and that Albus would be most displeased but she didn't particularly care – had been around her office the whole day. She hadn't had to heal broken bones, or bleeding noses. No black eyes or flu cases. A lovely quiet day. Even if it was raining cats and dogs outside. She snorted as she remembered a memory from years back when another generation – the doomed generation as she had termed then in her mind – resided in the halls of Hogwarts.

It had been such a day. Cloudy, windy and rainy. A thick rain, the kind which creates a veil of water drops between you and the rest of the world. A muggleborn girl had said it was raining cats and dogs, an expression so many purebloods had not heard before. They had looked at the girl in incomprehension as she had tried to explain. In the end they had found it amusingwhat those silly poor creatures – the muggles – had thought. The poor girl had been a laughing stock for most of the day. Some of the older and most skilled purebloods had even charmed the ceiling in the Great Hall so that the rain drops were charmed into a rain of kittens and puppies. The teachers had all smiled indulgently allowing the charm for a good five minutes, while the girl blushed a bright lobster red. She had never spoken another muggle expression while in Hogwarts.

Poppy sighed again. It had been interesting to see it happen, though now she felt that they should have stopped it, perhaps. She tried to remember the girl in her memory. There was a fuzzy face, non-descript face, and brown straight hair. Nothing else. No name, no sharp memory of the girl. Only a piece of a newspaper article saying that she had been one of the victims of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named the bastard. And Poppy felt so tired and guilty that she couldn't remember that girl while she remembered so many others.

She tried to distract herself by thinking of the morning that had passed. It had been pleasant. Severus had returned from his short holiday and had come to see her as promised. She was surprised. Severus avoided her like the plague when it came to his health. But he had allowed her to check him and she had been fully satisfied. His energy levels were back to normal – well, back to what was normal for him. She had always been intrigued by this child. Already working for ten years at the school when he had first come as an eleven-year-old child, she had much opportunity to work with children and to unintentionally make a case study of their energy levels and their magical evolution as the children grew up. Her results showed a certain trend in the evolution of that power. In pureblood and muggleborn children. There was some kind of relation between a witch's or wizard's energy levels and her or his magical skills. Of course she had kept it secret, never talking about it to anyone. Not even the Headmaster. It wasn't something that could be allowed to be discussed in times such as these.

But Severus…In her thirty two years of working in Hogwarts she had never met anyone, anyone, with energy levels like his. They had been normal as an eleven-year-old child. But when he hit fifteen…Poppy wasn't certain she could explain her readings knowing what she did. No other human, never mind Wizard had readings as high as his. But for some reason Severus Snape remained a simply adept wizard. Certainly more powerful than most and better versed, but his magic was nowhere near as powerful as that Albus or The Dark Lord wielded. She might have no personal knowledge of what the Dark Lords energy levels were, and she didn't want to find out either were she to be honest, but she knew Albus'. And they were but a fraction of Severus.

In fact, she had never seen the Potions Master depleted of energy before in her lifetime. Those Dementors certainly had a field day with him.

She took another sip of her tea smiling at the very interesting conversation they had. It seemed that his research was going very well, for once. From what he told her and from what she knew about Porphyry it really was only a matter of time before he eliminated the few remaining glitches in his potion. She really hoped that he would have the chance to finish it.

"Poppy, are you here?" a feminine voice she knew well brought her out of her reverie

"In the office, Amanda." She smiled at the prospect of having a chat with the younger Witch.

She liked Amanda. Well, she liked teasing her about Severus. There were rumours that had them sleeping together but nothing solid. It was no secret that Amanda wanted a chance with him – her hinting wasn't exactly subtle – but whether she had succeeded it was anyone's guess. And, frankly, Poppy thought, considering this was Hogwarts and the Potions Master was the man in question, chances were that she hadn't. The whole castle would be talking about it moments after it happened but nothing concretewas ever heard. Except for that memorable kiss in a hallway when they – or most likely Amanda – thought they had been alone. And they had been. But Minerva and she had just turned into that hallway to see Amanda reaching up to him and kissing him. The two interlopers had turned back to hide themselves wearing the same stunned expressions on their faces.

"What are you doing in here with all the lights off?" Amanda said as she walked in waving her wand to light the candles around the room. The sudden light caused Poppy to cringe and close her eyes for a moment. "The sun has set you know. It is all dark in here."

"I was thinking. I didn't notice." Poppy replied.

"Really? What was so important that you forgot there was such a thing as the lumos spell?" She _achio_ed a chair and gracefully sat down.

"None of your business." Poppy said. "So what can I do for you this fine evening? How come you are not with Severus?"

"Oh, is he back?" Amanda said a bit tense. "I didn't know." It was time for Poppy to be surprised.

"Really?"

"Yes, really." Amanda said rolling her eyes. "So how is he?"

"Clearly that is the reason why you came here in the first place, is it?"

"No, not really. But since you have seen him…"

"Doctor – patient confidentiality." Poppy grinned at her mischievously.

"Oh, fine! Have it your way. Don't tell me. See if I care." Amanda threw her hands up in the air though they both knew that she did care. "Anyway, I came here for a completely different reason. I want a pregnancy test potion."

"What?" Poppy managed to utter as her coughing fit subsided. From the smile in Amanda's face she was certain the Witch had waited until she took a sip of her tea to state her reasons, expecting her reaction. "You did this on purpose, didn't you?"

"Mmm yes." Amanda shrugged. "It was fun. I didn't think that it was possible to bulge someone's eyes so much."

"I used a spell." Poppy said sarcastically. "So what did you came here for?"

"I told you, a pregnancy-"

"You weren't kidding me?"

"No, unfortunately not."

"So Severus…You…there were rumours…Does Severus know?" Poppy mumbled.

"What does Severus have…Oh! Oh no." Amanda sniggered. "It isn't for me. Silly." She grinned and Poppy sighed in relief missing the shadow that crossed the younger Witch's eyes. "We are not together, Severus and I. Well, not yet."

"I sympathise with you, I really do. But maybe it is for the best. Severus isn't the easiest of people. Maybe you should forget about him. After all he would have done something all these years if he returned your feelings." Poppy said realistically.

"Whatever." Amanda said tiredly. It wasn't the first time she had had this conversation. It pained her to lie to these people. They were more than colleagues to her by now. They were more like a family. But she knew Severus reasoning and like it or not he was right. It was better, safer for all concerned, if they kept their relation secret. She had to admit that she was surprised at how good they had become at shielding themselves. Though Severus – she knew – had much practice on this web of lies they had spun.

"So who is it for?" Poppy asked her, dropping the matter for the moment. "A student?"

"Yes, as it were. I stumbled upon a student – quite accidentally mind you – crying in the toilets and she told me she thought she might be pregnant."

"Oh dear." Poppy said. Well she wasn't surprised. It wasn't the first or the last that something like this happened in the school. The moment those hellions turned fifteen they always found ways to escape the watchful eyes of the adults. They taught them the potions necessary for protection, of course, but there were always cases when things went wrong. As always the school then treated the girls with the utmost secrecy depending on the wishes of the girls. Or their parents occasionally, if the girls wished for them to be informed. "So who is the lucky girl?"

"Lucky? Oh, you were being sarcastic. I promised not to say."

"But why?"

"Well, so that she would tell me what was wrong. For all her bravado I am afraid she didn't have the courage to come here and ask you for the potion. She didn't want to tell me either, but I sort of guessed. So I promised that I would get the potion for her, hiding her identity if that was what was wrong."

"Guess it was." Poppy shrugged and got up and disappeared for a moment into her storage room. "Here you are." She said after a while, handing Amanda a white box with some unmoving images on it.

"What is this?" Amanda asked, perplexed. There was this weird thing pictured in the image of a small screen painted blue and words that said this was a pregnancy test kit, but it looked nothing like the potion she remembered from her days in Hogwarts as a student.

"It's muggle. It is rather more reliable than the potion and faster too. I discovered it a couple of years ago, thanks of course to one of our resident muggleborn witches. It is cheaper and I can order it by the dozen. And Severus doesn't have to brew that vile potion any longer. It takes forever and no one could stand being anywhere close to him for at least a couple of days after he brewed it. The smell…"

"Ah, yes. I remember." Amanda wrinkled her nose in disgust. "So how do you use this?" she said interested. "The girl might not know."

"So she is muggleborn then?" Poppy surmised

"I didn't say that."

"Of course not, dear. Well in any case, the instructions are in there. It is not arithmancy you know. Surprisingly simple. She won't have a problem."

"Ok. Thanks Poppy." Amanda stuffed the box in one of her robe pockets.

"Sure, no problem. Just make sure she comes to me if the test is positive. We could terminate the pregnancy very easily if she is in the very beginning. No one else needs to find out."

"Don't worry. It could be just stress, though. It always affected me."

"Yes, I remember. But who would have stress at this time of year? No exams or anything. Only Granger stresses over everything all year lo…no!" Poppy's eyes were as wide as saucers. "It can't be Granger. Is it?"

"I am sworn to secrecy, Poppy. I can't tell you." Amanda laughed at the agony of the elder Witch.

"Oh my God! It is Granger, isn't it?" Poppy went on. "I wonder…you think it was Harry? Or maybe Weasley?"

"Poppy!" Amanda said sniggering. "You have one dirty mind! No, it is not Granger."

"You only say that because you promised not to tell." Poppy watched carefully for any reaction from the Arithmancy Professor that would confirm her suspicion.

"Maybe. Maybe not. I don't think you will believe me whatever I tell you now." Amanda said and blew her a kiss as she took her leave.

"I bet it is Granger." Poppy lowered muttered when she was alone. "I expected better from her." She said lowering herself back into her armchair. She would have to keep a sharp eye on her from now on.

oO0Oo

**Monday, 20th October**

**Derian's Quarters.**

Michael watched as Severus turned and begun pacing towards the windows for what must have been the hundredth time. He was getting a bit annoyed. True in the beginning he found it amusing. Through the day they had exchanged pointed looks and slight nods communicating silently to each other the desire, the need to meet. To sit down and talk. It was nine o'clock at night when Severus had climbed the stairs of the North Tower to Derian's rooms. They had sat and Michael had called for tea and the moment it had arrived Severus had sprung up and started pacing a hole on his floor. Michael had smiled and indulged him, thinking that surely he would stop after some time. So he sat there and drank his tea, going over the day in his head, organizing his thoughts and, of course, observing his student. After twenty minutes he wasn't amused any more. He didn't mind the silence but he knew that it stemmed from Severus's unwillingness to speak to him. People that learned to live their lives in silence rarely chose to spill their secrets. It was what protected them from the rest of the world.

After thirty minutes Michael had enough.

"Severus, this is quite enough, I am-"

"I swore an Unbreakable Vow to kill Dumbledore." Severus spoke so fast that for a moment Michael thought he had misheard him. A glance at his student's face told him he hadn't.

"Brilliant." Michael said in a flat voice. Then he groaned and sunk further down in his armchair. "Just brilliant."

"I won't fulfill it, of course." Severus walked to the sofa and lowered himself in it.

"You are an idiot." Michael snapped.

"Excuse me?"

"You can't break an Unbreakable Vow. No one can."

"I know. I will die." Severus replied calmly.

"Idiot! This is a magic binding. It binds you, your life force, into completing the Vow. Not your body. You get stabbed and your life force, your quickening, heals you. You get hit by Avada Kedavra, your life force reanimates your body. You break an Unbreakable Vow and your soul, your life force is what gets targeted. And if that dies or is injured it doesn't heal. I thought you knew."

"I know." Severus admitted after a while. "I mean I suspected." He tried to avoid his teacher's angry eyes with no great success.

Michael leaned forward in his armchair pinning his student with his stare. "Do you have a death wish, Severus? Because if that is the case you needn't have gone to so much trouble. I would gladly kill you. Right now." And Severus did not doubt the soft spoken words for one second. He had glimpsed – rarely but it was there – that hint of madness, of cruelty and lust for power that his Teacher harboured beneath the almost perfectly carved persona of a normal person. A mortal. He believed himself lucky not to have been allowed to see anything more than the facade. Deep down he knew he wouldn't survive an encounter with what hid beneath.

"No. Not really." Severus muttered wishing Michael would cease to be so intensely focused on him.

"Then why in heavens name did you make the vow?"

"I was tricked into it, I think." Severus sighed and closed his eyes, playing the scene of the night again in his mind's eye. Narcissa pleading, Bella goading and being insufferable as always…he had wanted to shut her up. He had wished she would stop her accusations. He had tired of them, of Bella. And he liked Draco. He really genuinely liked Draco and Lucius no matter if the rest of the world thought them monsters. He knew them, he knew that they loved each other and that they would do what it took to protect their family. And he respected that.

"You think?" Michael's incredulous voice brought him back to the present.

"I think." He repeated, the image of a sad, satisfied smile on Narcissa's face of a job well done as she was leaving etched in his mind.

Michael remained silent for along time. "How?"

"Lord Voldemort decided that Draco should prove himself and atone for his father's failure last summer at obtaining the prophesy by killing Dumbledore. Narcissa had me swear that I would help him and if he looked like he would fail I would complete the task."

"Is he mad? Draco can't possibly stand a chance against Dumbledore." Michael said, then his eyes widened as he understood what Severus meant by being tricked. "Ah. He didn't think you would do it otherwise."

"That is my guess." Severus agreed. This time it was Michael who stood and paced the room.

"Do you know how and when it is going to happen?"

"No. Draco is the one who was ordered to do this and I doubt that he knows why. I tried to talk to him today but he's been avoiding me like the plague. I figure he was told not to tell me."

"No chance he would be willing to disobey Voldemort, is there?"

"With his family's lives at stake? No chance."

"Then there is nothing left but to watch and see what happens." Michael said not particularly happy with the idea. He hated when he found himself in a situation with too many unknowns and with variables he wasn't controlling. This was proving to be such an occasion. "But when the time comes, Severus, you will have to do it. Otherwise your life, and that of Draco, most likely, are forfeit."

"Michael, I won't do it. There is no point in it." Severus disagreed. "If I kill him the balance will be tipped towards the Dark Lord and both Draco and I will be hunted by everyone. I doubt we would survive for long. And if I don't…well that will simply bring my demise a little bit earlier."

"But if you are killed by wizards you will revive. If you are killed because you broke the vow, chances are you won't."

"I will take my chances with that."

"You are an idiot."

"So you said."

"Well, I was right." Michael told him as he stared out of the window. "Are you going to tell him?" he asked suddenly.

"Dumbledore?"

"Yes."

"You think I should?"

"It could potentially help us gain some control of the situation. If he had help from the Order."

"They would kill me on sight, you know. Dumbledore too. I am of no use to him anymore."

"Ah, yes, your double spying game. When were you thinking of mentioning that to me?" Michael said rising an eyebrow. Severus felt his heart stop for a moment. Michael didn't wait for an answer. "Look, Severus, you asked for my help and I came here to give it. But don't you think it is time you told me everything? I can keep guessing, and in the end I will find out but to provide you with any meaningful hope I need to know the full story."

"You taught me to work alone. You taught me never to say anything more than necessary."

"You already knew that." Michael countered back. "I simply helped you to perfect it." He returned to his armchair. "You lied to me, didn't you?" and Severus could discern amusement in his voice. "when I first met you. When you said you were a spy for Dumbledore."

"I didn't say that." Severus smirked.

"You let me believe it, then. So you were playing this double game from the beginning."

"Yes."

"And Lord Voldemort knew you were spying against Dumbledore, who knew you were spying against Lord Voldemort." Michael nodded. "Am I to understand that somewhere in the course of time, lines blurred and you weren't as certain as to whom you really should be helping? Is that why you decided that Voldemort had to die?"

"He was becoming too powerful. A danger. He was causing too much death. And I was helping him." Severus whispered.

"But you didn't really want to kill him. Because he raised you." Severus' head shot up in astonishment.

"How could you possibly know that?" he asked in bewilderment and some fear.

"I have my sources." Michael smirked satisfied that he had managed to unsettle the young immortal. "And the same sources told me that Dumbledore met with your Lord Voldemort some time ago. And it was agreed that Potter would be safe from the Dark Lord as long as he was studying here, and you would be safe from the Dark Lord as long as you stopped spying."

"Your source must be very good if he could not only find out about the meeting but spy on it without them both finding him out." Severus said after a moment of going through the implication of what he had been told and what he hadn't over in his mind. Dumbledore had bought Harry almost two more years. He had tried to do the same for him but it backfired. He had signed his own death warrant instead.

"Yes." Michael said amused. "_She _is something else."

"She?" Severus raised a fine eyebrow in mild surprise.

"She."

"So, what now?"

"Now nothing. Now we wait. And see."

oO0Oo

**Monday, 20th October**

**Headmaster's Office**

_Dear Arthur,_

_I hope that both Molly and you are doing well. _

_First of all, don't worry. This letter has nothing to do with either Ron or Ginevra. They are both doing fine in their studies. _

_I need you to look into something for me, Arthur. Discretely, which is why I am asking you at this moment in time. As you know the school hired a new Ethics of Magic Professor. He is a surprise and a mystery of sorts, though that really shouldn't surprise me considering that he is a friend of Severus. He has the most interesting connections, that boy. Anyway, Severus is being very tight lipped about this friend of his, in the pretext that he doesn't want anyone to think that I hired himunder his recommendation – which I didn't. _

_The man calls himself Derian Deofol and claims the name came down the family though he hasn't made any claims to being a descendent of the 4th century Dark Lord. Sixteen hundred years is an awfully long time for tracing a family line with accuracy but we both know that pure-blooded families do tend to keep meticulous records of such things. In any case, considering the history of the Dark Lord Derian Deofol, he shouldn't be related to him, in which case he might be lying about his identity. Something that is stressed by the fact that according to Harry Severus calls our new Professor under a different name, when in private. And yes, Harry was eavesdropping in that particular instance. Still he heard the name Michael being used._

_The little I know about the man, is that Severus met him in London before Voldemort's demise. Apparently Derian helped him out of a sticky situation. The man would have been around ten then, I believe. He is awfully young. He hasn't studied in any Magical Institution, and in fact Severus taught him some basic magic before he decided he wanted to travel the world. He learned magic that way. By consulting tribes and cults around the world. I must say his resume is quite impressive. I am including a copy here. Apparently he also knew Lilly and James. I have had a chat about it with Remus, but he didn't seem to know about it. He was travelling around Europe most of that time._

_Derian has some interesting beliefs and ideas about magic and the line between white and black magic, as I am sure you have heard already, but he is a likeable man and honestly rather unassuming and inconspicuous. But Harry, well he had an interesting dream and that meeting I mentioned above, when apparently Derian confirmed that he was called Michael. Of course it could be his middle name but…better safe than sorry. We have had our share of surprises when it comes to teachers the past few years. I would be grateful if you could run a check on him._

_It probably is nothing but a check would reassure me. _

_Give my love to Molly._

_A. Dumbledore_

Albus Dumbledore read over the letter a final time before he folded and tied it to the leg of the waiting owl. It probably was noting but something about his Potions Master attitude towards Derian and around him had intrigued him even before Harry recounted his dream. He wanted to know more about the man. Non descript…yes Derian was that. For about five minutes he melted into his surroundings. And then the young man would speak and there was nothing ordinary about him. He had a certain charm. Those bright eyes that always glittered as if saying _I know something you don't_, perpetually laughing at them. Remus had come to talk to him about the new Professor. Remus had asked him if he knew anything about Derian's background and he had asked Remus if there was something his wolf senses picked. Something he couldn't see. Remus had remained silent, unwilling or unable to tell him.

And then there was Harry's dream. Or Voldemort's.

And Severus. He had never seen the boy so relaxed around anyone before. But what he had told him didn't make any sense. That he trusted Derian because the man only did what he wanted and took no orders.

He watched the bird flying away, disappearing into the night and he hoped that for once there was nothing more to the new Professor than a young man who was a good friend to Severus from perhaps an unusual background and no threat to Hogwarts staff or students. But he doubted it.

oO0Oo

_Hope you liked it. There is more coming, though not for a while as I will be on the move for the next three to four week and I am not certain what kind of access I will have to a computer. Though, if it is any consolation, half of the next chapter is ready. _

_Thanks to MarbleGlove for going over the chapter and improving it. Also my thanks to umino-gaara for pointing out to me that there were words joint together. I hope I found them all. If not, feel free to point them out to me._

_Let me know your thoughts._


	20. Friday 31st, Derian's Quarters

_**Disclaimer: **If you recognise it chances are it is not my own. Just borrowing to have some fun. Hope you are having some as well._

_Lots and lots of thanks to MarbleGlove whose criticism, correction of the text and ideas make this story so much better. _

oO0Oo

**Friday, 31st October**

**Derian's Quarters**

Methos looked around his bedroom pleased with himself. All the furniture had been shrunk and moved outside so that there was nothing left in the room but the cold stone floor. The moon was casting a silver hue in the room creating shadows but that didn't bother Methos. He had learned to live with shadows and specters a long time ago. With a thought and a swish of his hand a pentagram within a circle was drawn in the middle of the floor. He placed four black candles representing the four points of the horizon. With a thought he commanded them lit. Then he walked and sat, yoga style, in the middle of the pentagram, and took a dagger out of his belt. He sighed and dragged the sliver blade across his palm drawing blood.

"Protect!" It was an order, hissed. A**s** the blood touched the drawn pentagram the figure glowed red enveloping him in a fiery force field for a moment before it was gone. He knew that his sacrifice had been accepted and that he would be protected as long as he was within the circle.

Methos sat there unmoving, going over in his mind why he was doing this. Cassandra was right, of course, it had been too long he had attempted this kind of magic. Mostly because he didn't want to be reminded of what was waiting for him there. All those people…

But he wanted to speak to Selest. She had made him promise he would never return to these grounds. And he had promised, never telling her what he really was or that he owned Hogwarts in any case. Godric had always been cross because of that fact. They – Godric, Helga and Rowena – had been looking for a suitable place to start their school for three or four years when they stumbled across the old abbey that was Hogwarts. Of course at that time it wasn't called Hogwarts. The Abbey had been home to the Order of St. Judah the Traitor before tragedy had stroked. He had created the order, naturally. The land had been his since the days of Merlin, and he had sweated as much as the next man to build the Abbey. Hufflepuffs had no idea but the Fat Friar was no wizard or muggle that had died in the castle long after the time of the Founders. No…he had been one of those poor souls that died while the abbey was constructed. Methos had buried the Fat Friar himself under the tower that later would become Helga's. The foundations were littered with the bodies of those that died to construct the castle. And all of those souls still remained bound to it since they died for it.

It was old magic. Very old magic that most considered Dark inthis age. And Methos supposed that in some ways it was, though at the time it was acceptable and much practiced. Some of the souls that lingered in Hogwarts were literally part of it. The reason why the castle still stood tall even after more than a thousand years. He had bound them himself. Some had agreed to it, with their last breaths, others had woken up to find themselves existing in a rather different way than what they used to. And of course none was visible to the muggles that roamed the place.

Roamed the place until Kronos happened.

Methos held his eyes shut tightly. He had stayed in the Abbey some fifty years. Hiding – it was holy ground – helping the order to assert its presence, studying all the new books that the monks would bring and building. Secretly, slowly, he had used his knowledge of magical building to create a vast labyrinth of dungeons and vaults that were at least twice as large as the building above ground. Part of his vast collection ofbelongings was hidden there. Treasures he had amassed through the ages, books, valuable stones, silver and gold, art masterpieces and more all down there. One of his many secret hiding places across the world. Probably one of the biggest.

He had taken his time building it. And then raising protective charms, warding it from all but him. One never knew what might happen but he had found that gold could almost always bail you out of a tight corner. When he was able to procure some. And then there were all the other things. All the other little things that found their way to him. Trinkets and toys that his children had loved playing with, this wife's favourite bracelet, another wife's embroidery that she had been soproud of…a son's first held sword…a friend's or student's final sword that they had used against him when they had found out who he was…So many memories. Some happy,others painful…all his life was amassed in memories held within these secret vaults.

He had become complacent.

Word had spreadthat a wise man lived in the Abbey. One that had dabbled in Alchemy and had discovered the Elixir of Life. A brilliant man. It brought visitors and it brought much needed money to the Abbey and he had let them in. He had preached and he had taught and he had been happy until one day an army showed up. And with the army came a presence. He had never been able to forget that presence in all the years sincehe had left the Horsemen. He was always waiting for it. Both with dread and eagerness.

Dread had won that day. He had fled. Hoping…he didn't know anymore what he had been hoping. That Kronos would follow him instead of harming the Abbey? That Kronos would lose him while applying himself to destroy what his traitorous brother had created? He didn't know. But he had fled and Kronos hadn't come after him. Not immediately. He had destroyed the Abbey. No, not destroyed it…he had charged it and put to sword every single monk that resided there. Every single farmer or nobleman who was visiting. Everyone. The monks alone numbered some hundreds at that point. And the farmers that had settled around them…So much blood shed because of him.

And he had fled.

And come back. A hundred years later.The Abbey had been burned but not destroyed. His wards were all there, Kronos having no idea what magic meant, and so were all the souls. Angry for being abandoned. Angry for being slaughtered. So he had set to work again, restoring the castle, when two witches and a wizard stumbled across the area. They had heard the place was abandoned. Destroyed some hundred years ago, they had thought it would be derelict and that muggles would be too scared to come here. There was too much blood shed on the grounds and they could feel it. The muggles remembered it still. Of course they had been right. Except for one detail.

The Abbey belonged to him.

Salazar Slytherin.

He had no idea where that name had come from. But when he had heard their names he had thought it amusing, the pattern. Methos always saw patterns around him, in how people behaved, in societies, in time, in the weather…it was all patterns. And he had learned to interpret them…up to a point. So he had named himself Salazar Slytherin. Salazar because there had been a monk – a watcher in disguise whose name was Salazar and he had been friends with him until the watcher's death at the hands of Kronos' army and Slytherin because…well he had been standing there, listening to their introductions and banter and their reasons for beingthere and he was desperately trying to think of a name and…and there it was, behind Godric, this magnificent looking black and silver viper, slithering it**s** way towards the castle – and the castle'smany mice – mumbling all along about stupid wart-hogs roaming the hill paying no attention to the rest of the animal population. Methos had had to work to maintain a straight face as he introduced himself earning a short pause from the snake that nodded at him and went on his way. The next day Hogwarts was created. And so was his friendship with a viper named Naedre.

More thoughts came to Methos as he tried to concentrate on the task ahead. Of students and fights, of Selest and her husband. And her son and later their daughters. But all that was irrelevant. Kronos,the rest of the Founders, his children, slowly he pushed them all away from his mind, raising aprotective wall, until all that remained was the vibrant image of a powerful witch and his wish to see her again. He knew that he could call her from the beyond but he didn't know if she would come to him. And if the mountain won't come to Mohamed, Mohamed goes to the mountain.

Methos envisioned his quickening solidifying into a force field that extended as far as the circle would allow. While the protective power of the pentagram would keep him safe from any outside interruptions, his quickening, his magic would keep his safe while journeying the borders of the sunless lands. Little by little he relaxed while his awareness expanded and soon he was faced by a dark door illuminated by light coming from behind it.

He hesitated only a moment before pushing it open and crossing to the other side.

Methos looked around him. He wasno longer in his rooms. His physical form might be but this aspect of him was in the middle of a silver path. Green grass sprouted all around it, white and yellow daises giving the endless fields colour. There was no wind in this place but Methos couldn't stop from shivering. It wasn't the cold, he felt neither cold nor hot. In fact he felt nothing but apprehension. Above him there was no bright sun but millions of distant stars obscured by dust lanes and galaxies. It was unreal and yet Methos knew that it was as real as anything in the world. Just another aspect of the Universe.

He started walking the silver path, not really caring which way he went. Whichever he chose would bring him to the same point. His final destination. As long as he didn't stray from the path he would be safe. He would be alright.

Methos tightened his robes around him for the hundredth time as he kept walking. Specters of people he knew or had briefly met appeared along the path, some mumbling, some trying to talk to him. Some had been defeated enemies, others victims. Those were always the worse. The ones that hated you, the ones that hated you for good reason, they were the ones that could force you off the path, but Methos knew their ways. He had known since forever, even if he didn't remember where he had picked it up. As far back as he could remember he had been an adept in magic, he had known the ways to the other side, the keys to the seven gates of hell. He knew hundreds of names of gods and deities, magical creatures and those who were afraid of the power that came with being named, safety cards if he ever needed them. But he could never remember how. That was a door, a gate, whose key he dared not use, not ever. It had the 'Herein be monsters' sign all over it. Sometimes, the price wasn't worth the knowledge.

He had no idea how long he had been walking when the silver path turned into a very familiar paved staircase. Shortly after he stood in the middle of his rooms in Hogwarts.

"Well this is surprising." He mumbled. Very rarely did these paths lead to well defined structures. Places. And never before had he arrived where he had left. He looked around him and he saw the differences between this place and that from which he had departed. This place was dead. The furniture, the books, the feeling of it, all long gone, remaining only as a far away memory of when he had been one of the Founders.

He walked to the door and opened it. There was a gust of cold air and he knew that somewhere along the way the path had been turned to lead him here. It felt as the castle that Hogwarts was no longer. It felt like it was then. A thousand years ago. He didn't bother walking the hallways. He knew what he would find. Echoes of people long dead. Professors and students. Instead he turned back in his rooms to wait. For whathe didn't know but it shouldn't be long in coming.

A sigh alerted him that he wasn't as alone as he had first thought. Slowly he walked to the door that lead to his bedroom and found himself facing an old and grey figure laying on the mahogany bed on which he had rested for so many long years. Silver hair radiated out from a pale face, old and dry and so close to death that he could feel its presence.

"You came back." Bony hands grabbing the bed sheets with all their might but still too weak to move, Methos could not raise his eyes from them. From the bony figure that lay on the bed. Salazar Slytherin hadn't 'lived' long enough to see her grow old. To see her die. He hadn't wanted to see her die.

"Selest." A whisper to acknowledge her presence. To make her real.

"You shouldn't have come back." She told him in a thin tired voice. Surrendered. "I told you…"

"I remember" And how could he have forgotten? She had warned him. She had threatened him, she had shouted at him and tried to reason with him. He hadn't been listening. Never was such a long time. He had finally relented and sworn never to return when she had fallen to her knees and begged him. He had been shocked to see her pleading with him like this. Not this proud woman he called his wife. He had sworn to her never to return if only that would mean she would get up and stop this nonsense. He 'died' shortly afterwards. Left Hogwarts and tried to forget all about it. In the end the only thing he had forgotten was the promise.

"Why did you come back?" Selest asked him.

"You came to me, wife, in days that have not yet come. And I remembered. Words that were spoken, secrets that were revealed. And I have come back to ask you about one of those secrets. It's important, Selest."

"You always wanted to know more than it was wise." Methos allowed a small smile to acknowledge her words.

"You once told me that before we met, before even your first marriage, you travelled the world trying to find magical artefacts." Methos took hold of her bony hand, as if that would breach the time gap between them. She had seen him dying nigh twenty years before this, but he had not laid eyes on her for almost a thousand. And now, the irony, he found a breathing woman – if barely – old and wrinkled in her deathbed, instead of the sliver haired ghost of a Witch for whom he had come looking. And he…he was not dead. Or wrinkled. He looked as young as ever. Methos could not help wondering who was the ghost and who was the livingof the two of them. Maybe that was why Selest was so calm. Maybe she thought he was just a vision.

"My wife, you once told me you found a stone. A perfect black sphere that seemed benign and yet you thought there was more to it than met the eye."

"The sphere of Arawn." Selest breathed out surprised.

"Is that what it's been named?" Methos smirked. It was as good a name as any, he supposed. "So you know where it is? It is important I have the stone."

"No."

"No?"

"You cannot have it. No one can. I hid it. It contains his soul, Salazar. You must not have it. No one must. Can you even begin to imagine what would happen if someone got hold of it? If someone released him back in the world? The myths say he lived for a thousand years. The myths say he had found the secret to immortality. He must not be allowed to escape. I will not tell you, husband."

Methos sighed and stared his wife for a long moment. He understood, now, why, by the time he met her, the Snape family had already begun to withdrawn from public life of the powerful families of the Wizardry World. He understood why she had hidden their home away. It must have taken an incredible amount of magic to hide the castle in obscurity. But Selest had been one of the incredibly few Witches and Wizards that understood magic so well that at timesthey could manipulate it effortlessly.

"It's somewhere in the Manor, isn't it?" Hereyes flared at his deduction.

"Husband! You shall not look for the stone. You shall not have it!" she told him in a commanding voice and he could feel the magic being woven around him in what would most likely be her last spell.

"Selest, look at me." He told her gently. He had to break the spell. "Look at me with your entire prowess of looking beyond the surface everyone sees. See me as I am." And Selest looked and somehow the man she knew as Slytherin Salazar, a powerful wizard, her husband, her dead husband, was suddenly so much more. Layer after layer she saw identities shedding from him, muggles and wizards, slaves and emperors, doctors and scholars, actors, warriors, fathers and murderers. Layer after layer until there was nothing more but the core of what not even Methos himself remembered. She saw him. And she was terrified.

"Husband! You are so many. You…I see wondrous things, my Lord, and terrible. How is this possible. What are you?"

"I am what I am." Methos looked at her sadly. She had stopped weaving her spell. She had most likely forgotten it, when faced with the reality of him that he had never before allowed her to see. He watched her as she weakly tried to move away from him, but there was nowhere to go. He got up, slowly, and moved away from the bed. "You see, Selest, the Stone does not contain the soul of Arawn. I do. He was one of the many. I must have the Stone, Selest. I must destroyed it. It is the only way to rectify what is probably my biggest crime."

"What do I call you, Lord?"

"Salazar, my wife. I've always been him for you. I'll always be."

"No. Not any more. My husband was a kind man. My husband could never be-"

"Your husband is thought to be a Dark Lord in the days to come, Selest. And you are spoken as the Dark Witch that created Avada Kedavra."

"But…"

"The world changes, Selest. And the dead have no rights to it."

"You are alive."

"Please, Selest. Tell my how to get to the Stone."

"I had a vision, Salazar. Because of it I warned you never to return. I didn't quite understand it, then. I thought that maybe you would leave Hogwarts at some point in your life and then you would return. You shouldn't return. But you knew what I meant better than I, didn't you? When you died I thought the vision was wrong. Or that because you had promised me the future changed to accommodate it. You never asked me what I saw."

"You never wanted to tell me."

"I saw you here. Old. Sitting on the bed, holding my hand as I was dying. And I saw myself killing you. I didn't want to do it then." Methos felt the air around him shifting once more. She was weaving the spell again. "I don't want to do it now. I loved Salazar with all my heart." Methos swirled around as the spell took form in the air and gusts of colourful wind begun to surround him, trying to trap him there. "But you are not Salazar."

"Selest, no! Don't do this." Recognising her spell, he turned to her but knew that it was too late already. The life had already starting it's final departure from the frail body on the bed. She had given all her being to cast the spell. Methos knew that he had only one chance to escape from it. From her. To go to the door and get to the silver path once more.

"There are two ways to break a spell, husband."

He ran for it but strings of magic spun around him, around his legs and arms, holding him back, trying to stop him from getting to the door. Another cord, glowing red, wrapped itself around his neck and Methos found himself kneeling just an arms length from the door fraying his hands as he tried to loosen the cord to breathe. He tried to cast spells but his magic didn't work in this place. Very soon his vision narrowed and he made coarse noise**s** as he tried to force fresh air through his constricted throat. He collapsed there, his hand still trying to grasp the door, his vision giving way to blackness. From behind him, on the bed, Selest spoke one last time.

"You shouldn't have come back."

oO0Oo

**The Potions Master's Office**

Severus Snape was tapping his finger on his desk, trying to persuade himself that keeping his patience was the best way to go about this. All in all it wasn't the boy's fault. He didn't know, he shouldn't know, how to play such games. Only, the young Malfoy was making his life very, very difficult at the moment. And he would rather this wasn't the case. Damn Lord Voldemort anyway. It was his fault.

"Draco, please. I promised your mother. You said it yourself the other day that I am _his_ left hand. I know about your task. Why won't you let me help you?"

"I don't know what you are talking about, sir." Draco continued to stare at the stone floor stubbornly. He was warned against looking the Potion's Master in the eyes. Professor Snapewas too strong a leglimens for that.

In front of him Snape sighed. He wanted to curse something. Someone. This was such a mess. He already felt a migraine coming on. He suppressed his desire to snort as he thought about the fact that he was immortal. Immortals weren't supposed to suffer from such things. Since he took this position in Hogwarts he had always had migraines. Maybe his immortal healing system didn't view them as life threatening. Not to himself in any case.

"Draco, please listen to me. You shouldn't have to do this."

"But I do." Draco sighed. "You lied to me. You said there still was time. Not for me, though." He raised his hand on his left arm, and Snape breathed in recognising the movement at once. He did it himselfso many times in the past decades. Lord Voldemort had branded the boy.

He felt anger rising in him and also dizziness. He groaned and dropped his head in his palms as suddenly everything went double. He squinted his eyes trying to join back the images in front of him into one coherent sight. It was the strangest thing in the world. He could hear Draco calling his name as if he was very, very far away. Another lifetime, in fact, and next to him at the same time. And then there were two castles. Two realities. He could see his office as it always had been, with the books, the jars,and the boy but he could also see an office that while it was the same one, it most certainly wasn't his. It most certainly wasn't here and now. First of all it didn't contain Draco.

Snape forced himself not to get sick as he tried to accustom to this strange dual reality, knowing that something was wrong. He focused on the young boy's voice in his mind, grasping for the familiar sound to return from…where? He hadn't gone anywhere, had he? What was wrong?

"Sir, sir are you alright?" Draco was becoming frantic. There he was trying to prevent his teacher from learning anything about his mission, though he suspected Snape knew more about it than he did, when suddenly his teacher went…well wrong. He had practically never seen Snape showing any emotion, any vulnerability to anyone. And here he was, holding his head as if it was going to drop off, seemingly lost to the world, staring at nothingness. He would have run to call Madam Pomfrey but he didn't think it would be wise to leave Snape alone now. Hewalked around the desk and shook him lightly. "Sir? Can you hear me?"

With a jolt reality reasserted itself in front of his eyes. Snape looked around his office, dropping his hands from his head. The intense pain had left him as fast as it had arrived. There was only a dull drumming in the back of his head, reminder of what had been.

"Sir?"

"I'm ok." Snape turned to look at his student. He looked real enough. The rest of his office didn't. It was like there were two offices, one superimposed onto the other and he couldn't quite tell which was real and which was not. "You didn't feel anything strange, did you?"

"Strange? No, sir. I mean…what happened? One second you were fine and then the next…" Draco was scared to see uncertainty in the eyes of his Head of House. Another emotion that never appeared.

"I am not certain." Snape said slowly, as if fearing that things would go wrong again if he spoke faster. Or more loudly. He could feel that something was wrong. He wasn't sure what, but something about Hogwarts, about reality itself was askew. He just had this bad feeling. He had it the whole day but he had ignored it, what with today being the 31st of October and all. He usually had a bad feeling during Halloween. But usually it had something to do with him dreading seeing what the Headmaster would think to decorate the Great Hall with. "You don't sense anything at all?" he asked again, afraid to even move an inch. There was something in the air.

"No, sir." Draco said a bit perplexed. He looked around him but all was as it always was. "Maybe you are tired. Sir."

"Maybe." Snape said doubtfully. Then the door banged open.

"_In all my years in Hogwarts-"_

"_Which, admittedly, are only two."_

"-_I've never seen such behaviour from a pupil!" _

Draco and Snape watched with mouth wide open as the office door remained open – and yet it was closed at the same time – and two black dressed figures entered the office. One was obviously a teacher and the other a student. In fact the teacher was leading the student from a firm grip in his arm. He shook the student when he spoke back and forced him to sit.

"Sir?" the moment Draco spoke up the two figures dissolved in smoke. "I didn't just see that, did I?"

"If by that you mean two people coming in the office through a closed door that was open as well, then yes, you did." Snape told him equally baffled. And there it was again. That ache in his head, that feeling in his gut that he had swallowed a stone.

"What was…what language were they speaking in?" Draco asked baffled. "I couldn't understand them."

"I could. It was Old English."

"What was that? What happened?"

"I am at a loss, Mister Malfoy. Perhaps it's a by product of the day. It is, after all the day of the spirits, today." Snape said not very convincingly. "I think it may be wise if we went to the Great Hall. It's time for the feast in any case. Maybe the Headmaster knows what is behind this." Draco agreed – thinking that perhaps it was the Headmaster that caused it in the first place. A Halloween surprise. Still both Professor and student stood in front of the office door for a few moments before Snape decided that they would have to go anyway and pulled it open.

It was just a door.

Outside the hallways were all the same but Severus still thought he could see a shimmering superimposed image on top of their reality. They walked slowly as if they were rediscovering the space around them, taking everything in.

"Sir, is it me or does the castle seem a bit more…"

"Crowded?" Snape finished for him, seeing a few students – looking very solid and very real until they walked through an armour that jumped as if it too perceived that something wasn't quite right – go past them. Again he could hear the older form of English floating around.

"Yes."

"I think we had better hurry." And soon it wasn't just them that realised that something was wrong. All over Hogwarts exclamations could be heard. New students walking about, new furniture appearing from nowhere. Snape took hold of Draco's arm, not unlike how that teacher had dragged his student into his office only minutes ago, and walked fast towards the Great Hall. He stopped in his tracks the moment he entered it.

"This is impossible!" Draco whispered from next to him.

There was a commotion going on in the Hall. The ceiling that always looked like the sky outside was just a stone roof with what looked to be like the constellations painted over it. There were far more students than Snape felt there should be and worse there were far more Professors. And it seemed that both realities could see each other now. Snape had a feeling that whatever had happened was getting stronger. At the Head Table Dumbledore was looking around baffled, his eyes for once not sparkling in mirth. The Potion's Master knew immediately that this wasn't a trick Dumbledore had played. He left Draco with his fellow Slytherins, of both now and then – whenever then was – and walked towards Dumbledore.

"I don't suppose you know what is happening, do you?" Dumbledore asked him acknowledging him by the question alone.

"I was hoping you might be able to answer that." Further down the Hufflepuff table a fight broke loose and Sprout was trying to stop it with the aid of an unfamiliar Professor.

"I don't have the foggiest, my boy." Dumbledore admitted. "Can you feel the magic?"

"I can see it, Headmaster."

"Excuse me?" Dumbledore said quite stunned.

"You can't?" Snape asked equally baffled. "I…it looks like there is Hogwarts and at the same time, almost parallel to it there is another Hogwarts. Two separate time points somehow joined in one."

"Really? I can only feel this surge of magic spilling over around us." Dumbledore said amazed at the description his Potions Master was giving him.

"But is it anything to worry about?" McGonagall asked from Dumbledore's left.

"I don't know."

"Headmaster, this is wrong." Snape said, rubbing his temples. That migraine was coming back. "It feels wrong."

"How do you mean, Severus?"

"This can't be right. There can't be two points in the time line joint together. It would require looping the existing timeline and as Amanda would tell you… that is exceedingly difficult to achieve. With or without arithmancy. And it is also very, very dangerous. I think it has already begun."

"What thing, Severus?"

"The reality is reasserting itself." He simply said when a new wave of dizziness hit him. Why the hell did it look like he was the only one being affected by this?

"Severus, are you alright?" McGonagall lowered him in a chair when he seemed likely to collapse.

"I--" he had no time to answer her. There was a scream. A huge apparition hovered above the tables of the Houses. A woman's head and shoulders, framed with brown curls, her hand pointing at the Head Table, her lips moving continuously in unspoken words. As sudden as she appeared she was gone, leaving the Great Hall in stunned silence. Strangely Severus was relieved at that. It meant he wasn't the only one that saw her. He frowned suddenly as he realised that he knew that woman. He had seen her before. Only he couldn't remember where.

"Shit!" Snape snapped his head around to see a dawning understanding in Sybil's eyes as she too watched the apparition. At first he didn't know what it might have been she realised but when she turned and looked directly at him he unwillingly knew.

"No." he said realising that there was one person missing. One person that probably had both the skill and the power to cause something like this.

"Yes." Sibyl said as she got up and started running.

"Shit." Severus got up as well and followed her out amidst the incomprehensive stares of both students and Professors.

"Headmaster?" McGonagall asked after a moment.

"I don't know, Minerva." Dumbledore sighed and decided he had better follow them. "Get the students to their common rooms. Calmly. I am going to find out what this is all about."

"The hell you will." Minerva muttered as she too followed, shouting orders as she went. "Fillius, Flora, take care of your Houses. Remus deal with my Gryffindors. Derian can deal with the Slytherins-"

"Derian isn't here." Remus said calmly at her. "I haven't seen him all day, in fact." Something about how he said it, something about the way it was Sybil and Severus that were the first to figure something out – the two persons spending the most time with Derian – had McGonagall realise her next stop.

"Right, then Berenice can take care of them" she called towards Sinistra as she was already speeding out of the Great Hall and towards the Slytherin Tower.

oO0Oo

Cassandra felt something was amiss the moment Methos opened the door to the in-between lands. She descended from her rooms – ignoring through years of experience the dizziness and intense headache that adepts to such magic felt – trying to pinpoint the source of it until she came to the Great Hall. She knew this wasn't what she was looking for but she lingered. She could tell something was going to happen in here. When students that were not of this reality begun to appear she started to get very scared. There was definitely something wrong.

Soon more Professors and students came and she was able to hear what was said seated as she was in the shadows.

When the apparition appeared she knew. It took little time for her to decide that extreme measures were needed and she turned towards Snape allowing him to see in her mind one name. Derian. They were in his living room now.

Wasting no time Snape blew Derian's bedroom door in splinters and both of them entered the room. Carefully. They both gasped.

The room was empty of all furniture and in the middle of it there was a pentagram drawn on the floor, a red circle of energy surrounding it providing the required protection for the man lying in it lifelessly. As if sleeping. As if dead. At the same time the room was furnished with huge bookcases on the walls and wardrobes. There was a bed reaching where the pentagram begun, a woman, a dying woman laid on it. And there, on the floor, was also the man they both knew so very well, trying to reach the door they were standing in front, held by ropes and magic, obviously dying.

"I am going to kill him!" Cassandra shrieked. "That stupid, egocentric idiot!" with fast movements she pushed Snape out of the room and took out some calk form one of her pockets. "I told him he needed help. But heavens forbid he should listen to me." She continued with her ranting, while Snape continued inspecting the situation inside the room.

"This is impossible." He whispered. The only truth that could register in his mind. As Cassandra was bent down drawing a similar pentagram to the one inside the room, with fast furious movements of someone who has done this before and knows exactly what needs to happen, Dumbledore reached them and tried to take in the situation.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" he looked at his Divination Teacher who for the first time in long years looked more…real. Seeing as she was too obsessed with swearing and drawing to give him and answer, he turned his attention to Snape. "Severus?"

"I think Derian caused this, somehow." Snape told him uncertainly. Well, it had to be Derian causing it. The magic reeked in here. It spilled from outside the room, the point where the two realities were jointed.

"What do you mean caused it?" Dumbledore walked inside the room, trying to understand what he was seeing. In a not very well considered action he touched the red sphere surrounding Derian's body within the pentagram. Before he knew what was happening he found himself flying across the room.

"Don't ever, ever touch that again!" Cassandra said momentarily straightening up. "It's a protection field." She explained in response to Snape's look of inquiry as he helped a disheveled Headmaster up. If he didn't feel that the situation was serious he would have had a problem suppressing his laughter. It wasn't every day you saw Dumbledore blown of his feet. "I need some candles." Cassandra went on her work.

"Will those do?" McGonagall said from behind her, pointing at some white candles in a bookshelf. She had come just in time to see Dumbledore landing and hear Sibyl's explanation. She accio'd the candles to Sibyl having already passed shocked and confused by what was happening around her and coming to a certain calm. In fact she had this suspicion that the only person who knew what was going on – and was still conscious – was Sibyl. In itself not something very calming under ordinary circumstances.

"Excellent." Cassandra positioned five candles,one on each of the points of the pentagram. "Minerva if you'd be so kind as to light them also. I will need every scrap of power I have." She concealed her inability to perform that particular simple spell – much to her annoyance.

"To do what?" Snape asked as the candles burst to flames.

"Bring him back of course." Cassandra said as if that should have been obvious.

"Where from?"

"I don't know, Headmaster. That I don't know." She sighed and entered the Pentagram. "What ever you see, don't be frightened. It's the way this works."

"What are you going to do?" McGonagall asked a bit apprehensively.

"Open the doors that lead to the other world." Cassandra said. "It is the only way to get him back. And it doesn't look like either we or he has much time. Already the timeline is straightening. It will be complete once he dies." She told them and they looked at the kneeling figure just inside the door, gasping for air. It was becoming fainter. As was the lady on the bed, while the pentagram Derian was lying within seemed to lose its integrity. "And when I bring him back, by the Gods, I'll kill him!" Cassandra's face darkened in anger.

He should have never done this. She had warned him. It had been more than a thousand years since he had attempted to enter the realms beyond and even longer since he had tried something like this. He probably hadn't anchored himself properly. Deep inside, Cassandra feared that he had done it on purpose. Even if perhaps he didn't realize. He had had a couple of very difficult years and it was dangerous to enter those realms when one was in the best states of mind. In his current one it was practically suicide. And he knew that.

"Severus, you will join me. You will ground me and provide me with more power if mine fails." Also his presence would be felt and hewas someone Methos cared about. Someone that he might return for. And a safeguard. She had no idea how long it would take her to find Methos. It didn't matter how much time he had left in that reality. She could reach it at any point she wished, provided it hadn't happen in the common reality before she stepped into the other realms.

Snape entered the circle hesitantly and kneeled next to her. She took hold of his hand and began chanting under her breath. A similar protective shield solidified around them, separating them from the rest of the world. Then Cassandra concentrated and felt her awareness expanding. The door appeared quickly and she crossed, her bond with Snape keeping it open for as long it would take. She knew he would be able to see and hear pretty much everything that happened even if he remained on the other side of the veil. She didn't like it but there was no going back now.

Alexa. That had been the apparition in the Great Hall. The last wife and love of the most ancient of immortals. MacLeod had told her all about her when he was trying to persuade her that she had the wrong man and it hadn't been difficult to recognize her. She stood now before her in the beginning of the path.

"You heard." She said, but her lips didn't move.

"It was hard no to." Cassandra mumbled. "Can you take me to him?"

"No." Alexa said sadly. "He was lead off the path. Where he has gone I can't follow." Cassandra swore under her breath. It did make sense though why everything got so confused.

"Do you know why?"

"To have him killed." She replied and Cassandra nodded in understanding. In the other reality he was just a visitor. He was the apparition – if rather more solid. His body and soul were separated. In the other reality he was immortal no longer. He wasn't a wizard either. He just was. And could be killed very easily. And if that happened then he would die in his own reality as well. "I can take you only up to a point."

"Lead the way then." Cassandra said relieved she wouldn't have to search the right path and the way off it. That wouldn't have taken too much of her energy. She didn't think she could survive that. It was one thing searching the multiple paths in the lands between. When you had a purpose in your mind, one that shadowed everything else, the silver path would eventually lead you there.

But to reach someone that had strayed from the path…that was almost impossible. In fact she had only seen it happen once. When she had been the student and Methos the teacher and she had ignored him thinking she knew better now and she had attempted walking the paths alone. She hadn't been ready and she was tricked off the path. She had thought that was the end of her when Methos had appeared in front of her. Tired beyond recognition, dirty and disheveled, but still his eyes had been burning gold in anger, he had taken her hand and brought them back to reality.

She had wanted to run away from him, then. Again. His eyes…she had thought that he would return to his previous persona – promise or no promise – and kill her for disobeying him. But she didn't run. And he didn't revert. Actually, at first, he had been too tired to be a threat. She had remained there and took care of him. Washed him and kept him as warm and comfortable as she could. Then later – when he finally revived – she would feed him and help him about his everyday jobs, until a week after he had recovered enough that he was able to stand without any help.

All that time, and all the time after, he said not one reprimanding word forher. And she had realized that she didn't hate him anymore. Nor fear him. He had saved her life when he didn't have to, endangering his in the process – something she thought he did for practically no one. And he had trusted her not to take her revenge, not to kill him, when he knew he would be at his weakest. She realised it hadn't even crossed her mind to take his head. And she had had the chance.

Alexa stopped before her, pointing towards a path that led to a darker region.

"This is it then." Cassandra intoned.

"Yes."

"Thank you. I wouldn't have been able-"

"You would." Alexa interrupted her. "Tell Adam…when you get him back…tell him…" and she stopped. Tears flowing from her eyes, wanting to tell all that she hadn't had time to share with him while they were still alive.

"He still loves you." Cassandra told her gently, knowing this to be true.

"I know." She smiled. "I watch over him. I am not the only one either." She shrugged uncomfortably as if that was something it had taken her sometime to get used to. "Tell him I said hi." She finished lamely in the end and disappeared.

Cassandra looked back, whence she had come from and saw the door and Snape waiting there for her just a couple of meters away. She smiled. She liked the way this world worked, with so many rules that always changed to accommodate them who knew their way around. For the others, though, it was deliciously confusing.

"Not long now." She told Snape who was looking at her and the place with wonder in his face. "What ever happens don't let go. And don't enter this world. You don't know how to navigate it yet. I am not looking for both student and teacher." he nodded, her words registering only partially and she turned around again and begun walking the side path.

The grassy hills and starry sky soon dissolved around her as if they had never been there. In their place there was only darkness. Deep, thick darkness that sucked even the silver light of the path, forcing it to provide light only for a few meters ahead of the Witch. Cassandra wondered how Methos could have missed that. It wasn't that the scenery was so much bleaker now, she had walked worse paths in her lifetime, and so had he. It was the fact that it changed. Once on a path the scenery around it remained unchanged until you reached your destination. Then again, even had he noticed, there would have been very little he would have been able to do.

Smokey apparitions of faceless beings started taking form in front of her, whispering of terrors and crimes of unimaginable degrees. They were warning her, they wanted her to leave, to return to her place, to leave the beast, the man, to them. He was theirs to punish. His death their way to freedom. She couldn't help but listen to them, even though she tried to ignore the words. Cassandra startedto run, trying to fight the chill seeping through her clothes, the dread that his name caused. Thousands of souls demanded vengence and they asked her why she did not want revenge as well. She had been wronged by him. She had been his slave once. She had died innumerous times by his blade. Surely she deserved retribution.

Cassandra felt old, cold, buried emotions surfacing again. Of fear and hate and love. But they lacked that edge, that dangerous edge that had once led her all over the world trying to find Methos, trying to kill him. They had worked out their differences a long time ago. They were at peace. She didn't need to take revenge on the man trapped in here. Mostly because she really believed that the man who had enslaved her three thousand years ago was dead. Long dead and Methos had killed him. Around her the apparitions screamed and dissolved revealing a staircase that she recognised as leading to Methos'rooms. Current and old apparently.

Losing no time she ran up the stairs, through the living room and came to stand before the closed door that she knew led to the bedroom. She tried to open it but it was locked. Cassandra sighed.

"Just for once, couldn't things be a little bit easier?" she mumbled as she took a couple of steps back and ran, shoulder first, into the door. To her great surprise it actually opened and she was thrown down on the floor by her gathered momentum. "Brilliant." She raised herself on her knees and looked around.

The room was losing its substance. She could faintly see through toher own reality with Dumbledore and McGonagall staring at her with wide eyes as she too was in both places. They hadn't thought she could do something like this. They thought she was just the crazy woman that fell into trances occasionally with stunning results. She felt the urge to laugh. She wasn't the Witch of Donan Woods for nothing. In front of her Methos was breathing shallowly, the magical cords in place trapping him, killing him. He had lost consciousness. Shortly he would lose his life as well. And so would she if she didn't go. The time line was reasserting itself rapidly now, trying to correct the abnormality and neither of the immortals belonged to that era.

Cassandra rushed to the bed where Selest was still alive, keeping her magic alive as well. Cassandra looked at her sadly, knowing that there was only one way she could break the spell. She took her sword from her robes and raised it above the old woman's body. Selest's eyes were moving rapidly. She didn't want to die yet. Not before her final task was finished. Not before the man in her room had breathed his last breath. She tried to explain this to the strange woman but the only sound that escaped her mouth was a keening moan.

"I know." Cassandra told her, instinctively realizing what the other woman was trying to tell her. From her point of view Selest was right. "For what is worth, he isn't an evil man. Not for a very long time now." With one swift downwards movement Cassandra run the old witch through her abdomen. By the time she retrieved the blade the woman was dead, blood dyeing her bed sheets dark red, and her magic was dissolved.

Cassandra turned to Methos still unconscious on the floor. That, by itself, didn't worry her. It was the fact that his breathing wasn't getting any better that did. Still, she had no time for that now. The room was beginning to dissolve around her and so did Methos and even herself. Unceremoniously she took hold of his hand and dragged him towards the door. It was then that things went very, very wrong.

With a loud bang the door closed and thousands of shrieking voices confined them both in a prison with no light and no exit. Terrified Cassandra saw the fading reality transforming into huge grey stone walls that entrapped them in the middle, both Hogwarts disappearing with its inhabitants. In the silence that followed, only interrupted by Methos uneven breathing and her own, Cassandra pulled the door in front of her open to reveal more stones blocking their way. With a scream she banged it shut. Their only way out was gone.

"If we survive this, somehow, I am so going to kill you!" she told the man in her feet and before she could control herself, she kicked him.

Strangely enough that did make her feel better.

oO0Oo

_Some notes on the story that might be interesting but I couldn't fit them in. I am assuming here that Cassandra and Methos had solved their problems long before the Comes the Horseman and Revalation 6:8 episodes of Highlander. After all 2000 years is a very long time not to accidentally bump to someone, and even longer not to wrok some differences out. Especially between two such strong characters. _

_Also for some reason FanFiction uploads the text with some words joined together. I went through it again and corrected many of them but there is a chance I missed some. If you are not bored and review this story (yes please do) let me know about them and I'll fix them as well.  
_

_I hope you liked the chapter. It was supposed to be one reasonable sized chapter but…The continuation is on the way. Just remember that this is summer and everything is a bit sluggish during summer.  
_


	21. Friday 31st, Hogwarts Library

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own the character, alas. Just having some fun. _

_Warning: This chapter hasn't been beta-ed. Last time I tried to get it beta-ed I ended up changing half of it. So I figured if I don't get it up now, I probably never will. _

_I am very sorry it has taken me so long. I wish I could say that next chapter will be coming along soon. Unfortunately I am much too busy trying to get through my Astronomy PhD. I hope people can understand that it is taking most of my time. I am not saying I am abandoning this. But don't expect anything new coming up that very soon.  
_

_Enjoy._

_I've included who every one is in the different segments of the story, since some people found it confusing. I hope it makes the chapter better. Thanks you all who have reviewed for your encouraging words. I will try to keep updating. Don't write this story off just yet._

**Friday, 31****st**** October**

**Hogwarts Library - Hermione Granger  
**

Hermione Granger was seated in her favourite chair in the library, down a shadowy corridor by the windows overlooking the lake. It was her place. Quiet and calm, no one ever came down this way as the shelves contained books in subjects too advanced for most students – for her as well sometimes. No one ever came down here but the occasional teacher.

She sighed and turned another page of the book she had been leafing through, trying to find more information for an essay in charms she was working on. She had written it, that was true, but there had been this quote in one of the books she read that had picked her interest and she had decided to follow it.

Hermione Granger was bored.

She had finished the essay. She figured that Professor Flitwick wouldn't need any more detail. Hermione smirked. If only Ron had heard that. Honestly though, she wasn't that bad. Yes she was a bookworm and a geek, and damn proud of it. But when she first entered these halls…it had been…she never really could describe it. She simply wanted to know more. To understand it better. And since it was obvious her fellow students didn't bother – either because they were purebloods and that knowledge was ingrained in them or because there were muggle born like herself but didn't really care – it had landed on her shoulders to unearth as much as she could about this strange world of magic.

Only problem was she had no point of reference.

Therein came the essays and the projects handed out by the Professors. It was a starting point. She could read what was needed about them and then expand through the references in the books she read. Slowly and arduously she had read through more books than she had ever though she would read in her life.

It had been an eye opener.

Even though she rarely shared that knowledge with those around her. Better that they thought her a bookworm. A know-it-all. Just like Snape was always saying.

Oh, how she had hated it in the beginning. But then the first year passed and she grew up a bit. And realised some things. Whenever Snape said that, there was something queer in his eyes. There was no animosity, no anger. He seemed amused. No matter what his voice and posture said. His eyes were smiling at some inside joke she was never privy of. Then she saw the same glint in other Professors as well. And she felt – right or wrong she knew not – that what she was doing somehow met their approval.

Of course books weren't the alpha and the omega of life. She knew that. Which is why she practiced. All that knowledge all those spells she found – and couldn't really harm anyone severely – she practiced. Which is why she was as good she was. Gone were the days of her naivety. As much as she wished they could return. They wouldn't so she continued. To read and to practice. Trying to understand what was happening around her. Trying to understand magic. She wished that at some point all those things that she read would somehow click and she would see light. It would make sense. It had happened in the past.

Hermione sighed again and turned her head from the window. And gasped.

Across her on the old oak table sat another student.

"What?" she asked irritated that someone had actually sat at her table. Well not her table, but there were so many others in the room that where free. Why here?

"Quid?" the boy asked looking as baffled as she felt.

"Err…what?" Hermione felt like kicking herself. Really, she did know more words than what. Usually.

The boy took his time before speaking again. He looked at her with big eyes that reminded Hermione of a stormy sky when she had been in Blackpool with her parents for a weekend. Slowly his gaze took all that could be seen from behind the table and he smiled – his teeth, she noticed, were rather crooked and slightly beige – in such a way that made Hermione blush.

"O! Pulchra effigies, quis est tu?" he ended up saying in a bit of a sing song way.

"That is Latin!" Hermione exclaimed suddenly, when her brain started working again. "Why are you using Latin?"

"Pulchra puella, quid inquis? Si an est aliqua deum?" Hermione tried to pick out words that she could understand from Latin.

Something about a god, she decided. The boy was smiling at her kindly but he didn't look like he understood anything she had said. She frowned trying to make sense of this whole thing. A thought passed through her mind. This could be a prank. She got up, her chair screeching against the wooden floor and looked around. She only saw two Ravenclaw boys she knew were fourth years and an old lady she couldn't quite recognise. She was pretty positive that it wasn't a Professor. Looking more carefully she realised that the woman wasn't quite solid either. A ghost?

"Quid vides, Pulchra puella?" the boy interrupted her thoughts. Hermione looked back at him and realised that he weren't that solid either.

"Well, now, this is most irregular." She said aloud, thinking that this perhaps wasn't a prank after all. She snorted. It was Hogwarts after all. Here the borderlines between normal and weird were rather blurred. "You don't speak English right?" at his look of incomprehension Hermione sighed and took out her wand. "Well, I don't speak Latin. Currently at least." She mumbled, pointing her wand on herself. "Transfers verbum Latin." she said softly. "Right, do you understand me now?" she said and smiled at his impressed smile.

"Yes, beautiful Lady." He said and Hermione felt blushing again. "Interesting spell, that one. I would have never thought of that. Would you give me your name, spirit?"

"Spirit? I think you are a bit confused. You see, you are the ghost."

"Ghost? No, beautiful Lady, I assure you I am very much alive. I am Tristan Brocklehurst, sixth year, Slytherin." He smiled pointing at his badge.

"Hermione Granger, Gryffindor. Also sixth year and I am quite certain that there is no Tristan Brocklehurst in Slytherin. There is a Mandy, though, in Ravenclaw."

"Ah, but I know her not. As I have not seen you before, and I would remember." Tristan smiled at her. Before Hermione had time to react, he took out his wand and transfigured in quick succession the table and chairs that they were seated just moments ago into a thick warm carpet and soft cushions. "Will you not join me, Hermione?"

"I am quite sure that it is forbidden to use magic in the library in such a way." Hermione said hesitantly. "And perhaps we should go find a Professor. There is something not quite right here."

"Aside ghosts that can do magic and think they are not spirits of the otherworld? What would a Professor need our help with? We would simply be in their way. I am certain they have noticed. Professor Hufflepuff just run away out of the library yelling about spirits and ghosts in any case."

"Oh." Hermione said lowering herself next to him. Something in his voice made her trust him, even if it meant she wasn't running trying to find Harry and Ron to try and solve another mystery. Tristan was right. The Professors would deal with it. And she had a much more interesting mystery to occupy herself with. "Sorry, did you just say Hufflepuff?"

**oO0Oo**

**Derian's Chambers - Severus Snape**

In a sudden moment of clarity I realise that I am hugging myself. With a sneer I force my hands to fall next to my hips. Was there a door frame, I would have simply leaned against it and I would have looked normal. Relaxed. But there isn't one. And I don't really think I can actually relax in this place. Sybil called it the other world,­ didn't she? My brain provides me with 'in-between'. I seem to recall reading about this place, in between life and death. The region in reality that the Lords and Ladies inhabited. Or inhabit still. But Avalon is a bedtime story for young children. And I have heard of this place only in them.

Thought it was fiction.

Well, I sure am in it now.

The apparition from the Great Hall has lead Sybil on a fork on the path. She doesn't want to go any further. Or perhaps she can't. I hope we don't go any further down either, but I know better. Sybil looks at me with a smile. I guess I look as bewildered as I feel. Damn. I am supposed to be better at controlling my emotions. Though, this place seems to have an eerie ability to show all as it truly is.

Perhaps that is why I can't get my eyes away from Sybil. Why I only nod to let her know I heard her rather than trust my voice at this point.

She looks like so many people. Images upon images superimposed on that delicate frame of hers. With a start I realise what I was too blind to see before. The woman before me is most certainly not a fraud. She is beautiful and powerful and plays a game of her own. How could I have ever thought that she was just a crazy woman? Michael's words ring in my head from that night. When he came to warn me.

_Sybil isn't what she seems to be._

I hadn't believed him then. I hadn't even understood him. It seems I don't understand him all that often. Not for the last time I wonder how old he is. I had thought perhaps a thousand or so. After all he said that _we _weren't born that often. But he was Derian Deofol! He must be at least two thousand.

Around Sybil the grassy hills and galaxy sewn sky dissolve into smoke. She is walking, no, running down a silver path, around her just darkness and smoke. It reminds me of an image. In one of those old children's books Voldemort used to read to me to go to sleep. I can't help but grin in how absurd _that_ image is. But he did, though he probably wishes that had never been so. The book had a drawing of a beautiful Fairy with blonde hair curled elegantly behind her pointy ears. She was staring in a big heavy mirror mounted on the wall. The mirror reflected her real form. No glamour, her hair reminded me more of a thistle, her face no longer ageless and perfect, but pointy and rather small for her watery eyes. She looked smaller in the mirror and her face was one of disappointment. Behind her the mirror reflected not the marvelous room she was in but rather a dark place of silver and glass paths that seemed to lead to other windows, other mirrors of different realities.

The book said that that is how the Lords and Ladies had been trapped in their reality. By enchanted mirrors that showed them as they were. They couldn't use them as portals any more. They couldn't enter the lands 'in-between' and thus couldn't walk in other realities any more. And I think, perhaps, those were the paths in between places, while this may be the path in between time.

Sybil has reached a door. She looks a bit frustrated as the door won't open. There it comes again. That focused look on her. The determination for things to happen her way no matter what…it is a wonder to see her in this state and I can only hope I will have that chance again. Even if it scares me a bit. She goes through it and I try to peek in from behind her.

Michael is there. Right in front of her. Crouched down trying to breath but loosing the battle. I wonder what would happen if he died in here? Would there be a way for his quickening to find his body in reality? Our reality?

Is that Dumbledore over there?

It is difficult to see obeying Sybil's orders at the same time. Do not cross the edge. I won't but I wish I could see the expression plastered on his face. Sybil is moving to the bed were the old woman lies. A shiver goes through my spine as her eyes stare at me for a second. I know those eyes. They have been staring at me all my life from up the fireplace in the house. My house.

Before her name can even leave my lips I see Sybil taking a long sword out from her robes and with one swift movement impale the dying witch on the bed. I am so shocked that for long moments it seems to me that everything stops. Sound, movement and time. All put in hold until I begin breathing again.

And then – just as fresh air rushes through my lungs – all is back, time fervently moving…Sybil dragging her blade out of the witch…red expanding around the dead witch on the bed…Michael collapsing on the floor free of bounds…the room slowly loosing its substance and Sybil trying to drag Michael out of that room…the door closing…

The door closed.

And I am left in darkness.

With effort I get up – I hadn't realised I had fallen on my knees before now – and stare around me, trying not to move in any other way. There might still be that edge that I must not cross. Where ever I look I see the same thing. Namely nothing. Void everywhere except…yes…there is light somewhere in front of me. I think perhaps that is where we came from. On the pentagram in Michael's rooms I am kneeling opposite Sybil, holding her hand.

Holding her hand.

_What ever happens don't let go_

I am holding her hand. In reality. And here as well. I can feel her long fingers in my grasp. She is tightening her hold and I feel not all is lost now. Ground her she said. I was to ground her. But she is lost, locked behind a door that I can't even see.

_The eyes don't see what is important. _

It is a different voice from Sybil's that plays in my mind. Gentle but with an edge that cuts as the sharpest steel. As a child I never discerned the edge in the voice. Nowadays I only hear the edge. He had said all I have to do is believe.

I close my eyes and look around. And there…in front of me, amidst the void, dim light traces the door behind which it shines. I bring my hand against it and I can sense its roughness where the wood is and the smoothness of the metal spikes and beams that hold it in place.

I grasp the bolt that keeps the door close and drag it open. Only then do I open my eyes.

"Severus! Take hold of my hand!"

**oO0Oo**

**Hogwart's Kitchens - House Elves**

Down in the kitchens the House Elves were working fervently to prepare the dinner for the Halloween feast. Or at least that is what it looked like. Were someone to decent there – and very rarely did anyone visit the kitchens – perhaps it would have been obvious that the kitchens lacked some of their previous grandeur. Of course the place was as clean as always, and nobody could have said anything was wrong with the food, or indeed with any of the work the House Elves did.

But there, in the kitchen, the place where the biggest number of them could be found at any point, things looked a bit off. And it wasn't the presence of - more than it was usual - shadows floating around the kitchens. The House Elves ignored them, as skillfully as they did anything they had to do.

If someone had bothered to really look at them, it would have been obvious that there were far fewer House Elves in the kitchen than ever. Those that were there, it would have been apparent to any observer, that while working, they cooked and cleaned quite mechanically. Their minds were someplace else. Not that any of them would admit that of course. What ever was going on it was taking place quietly, covertly and, most important of all, the human's couldn't be allowed to find out what.

A war was brewing, but no words of freedom or fighting were whispered in the air. They would conduct this as all their affairs. Unnoticed by all they would do their work. Until it was done. Until it was too late even if anyone did notice.

The shadows around them became darker, more solid, but the House Elves did nothing. Not even when one of them collided with a shadow that had turned into a woman. They simply went on, under the amazed and mostly fearful eyes of the inhabitants of the Kitchens of a thousand years ago. The House Elves knew what most human's wanted to forget. They had been free once. Out in the forests, in the mountains. Even in the wide ocean. Wizards didn't control them then. They didn't have to call them masters and mistress. They didn't have to clean and cook and tidy for them. A thousand years back, the Kitchens were manned by squibs and muggles who didn't know what hit them.

A thousand years ago House Elves hadn't even existed.

They had sworn that a thousand years from now House Elves would be forgotten.

**oO0Oo**

**Somewhere in Wales - Arthur Weasley**

Arthur Weasley sighed as he checked himself against a hurriedly conjured mirror against a tree trunk. He looked, to his opinion at least, as weird as muggles looked. So he would probably pass for one.

He rang the doorbell once more hopping that Dumbledore hadn't given him this particular assignment. Now that he was the Minister of Communications, he really had no time to research an odd wizard. Then again, the man was working in Hogwarts close to his son and daughter and he would hate to see them hurt. And in this age and time it didn't pay to be too careful. So he had made inquiries here and there, used contacts in the muggle world the ministry employed – people he knew he could trust – and he had come up with an address. In a remote village in the northern parts of Wales.

The house was an old cottage at the end of a winding road. Behind it there were just hills, giving it a sense of privacy and calm. It looked like it had been the first house in an area that had been built quite a bit later on. Arthur Weasley could tell by the condition of the garden, the exterior of the house, the little details that spelled quite clearly that this house was being taken care of with love.

"Yes?" Arthur jumped around at the sound of the voice. He hadn't heard the door opening just enough for him to see the drawn face of a woman wealthy in years.

"Err…hello. I am looking for someone." Arthur said quickly. The woman by the door narrowed her eyes and waited for him to continue. "Er…he might be going under the name of Derian Deofol. I was told he lived here."

"I am afraid you were told wrong." The woman said and moved backwards as if to shut the door.

"Wait, wait!" Arthur fumbled with his pocket. "I have a picture here." He took out the drawing that his daughter had made of the man.

He had been researching for quite some time of Derian Deofol, but he hadn't been able to procure a photo of the man. So he had mailed his Dumbledore asking for a description or a photo, but he had been unable to do that. His wife had listened patiently as he was arguing that Dumbledore was asking him the impossible. Names that belonged to people dead for hundreds of years, no photos, no nothing. And if he had been able to find this address, it was because of an accident. A letter the Headmaster had found, he wasn't told how. And he wasn't about to ask. His wife had simply smiled at his frustration and then gave him an envelope from Ginny. His daughter was fascinated by their new teacher. She kept praising him, his way of teaching, his vast understanding of magic and history. And she had done something better than just send them a description. She had send them a drawing of the man. And quite a good one too.

"Here." He handed it over to the old woman who stared at the piece of paper as if wishing it could burn. Then she sighed and pushed the door ajar, revealing a thin, frail looking body, and slightly shaking hands holding a walking stick.

"You might as well come in, I suppose." She lead him to the lounge. "Can I offer you something?"

"Ahm…no, no. Thank you." Arthur said a he took the offered seat. "Can I ask your name?"

"Claire Pierson. And you are?" The woman told him as she took hold of a bunch of photos from a box over the fireplace.

"My name is Arthur Weasley. I have been looking for information on this man for quite a few weeks now. Frankly this was my last hope. So you recognised the man in the drawing?"

"Yes. Though I must say the hair threw me off a bit. He used to wear them rather sorter than this when he last visited."

"Erm…who is he?"

"That," Claire Pierson said pointing to the drawing and handing him the photos "Mr. Weasley, is Adam Pierson. My son."

**oO0Oo**

**Infirmary - The Friar**

Everyone is gone now.

The ward is so silent, so tranquil. It hasn't been like this during the day. I've been in here all this time. Since they brought them in, unconscious. I saw them worrying over what happened. I saw them tense. It's always been like this. Through the years. I've watched them. The students, the Professors. I watched them grow up, I watched some of them coming back here, to teach. To die. To fight. For a thousand years I've watched, waiting. Waiting for his return. Silently, in the shadows, I've watched them, generation after generation, changing and yet deep down always the same. I learned the patterns, the names, their history. I learned to predict them, their actions and waited for the few that would surprise me. I waited, I watched and I learned. And now I think I am closer to understanding him. How he thinks, how he operates. How he deals with the passage of time. So much time.

I knew he was going to return. Not because he already did so, once. Or because this place belongs to him. But because I remember. That night, when the castle shifted. When she died. Alone in her room from a sword wound. The weapon never to be found. The killer never to be named. But I knew. I felt him. I always feel him. He bound me here. My soul on this castle. Along with so many others. All that died here. All that will die here. Their souls forever bound to the castle. Protecting it. Shielding it from the destructive forces of time. Hiding away his secrets. His lies and truths.

I watched them as they tried to remain calm. As they tried to understand what had happened. I watched them worry over friends that will never tell them the truth. Their loyalty already given elsewhere. I felt the anger of the Headmaster finding himself in a situation he couldn't control. A situation he can't understand. I smiled at the effortless way the Wich played them. The way her eyes smiled in a job well done. I felt touched by the worry etched upon her face when she thought nobody was looking. Worry for the man she once hated the most. The man she still hates the most because the alternative is unthinkable. There is too much history between them.

I watched the young one with interest. He has so much passion locked inside. So much fury. All hidden away, carefully. Methodically. He is split between worlds. Between loyalties and people he cares about. People he so ferociously denies he loves. He was worried. Worried about his teacher, having never seen him to make a mistake before. A miscalculation that could have cost him his life. Happy that he repaid a life debt. Curious about what happened. If he has the power to do the same.

I watched as his lover tried to come up with an answer. Furiously scribbling in a piece of parchment, equations and numbers that move chaotically, never giving her an straight answer. Not this time. She doesn't understand it. She favours order. She uses equations to reach conclusions. To find answers, solutions. She always has a solution to her equations, no matter how complicated. She has a talent, I can see that. But she makes mistakes, like every one does. She believes that that's what life is. A huge, over complicated equation. One that has a solution. Her life was divided by zero, the moment she decided the young one would be part of it. Of her. She still hasn't figured it out. I only hope that she does before it is too late. For them both.

They are all gone now. Left one by one. To their hide outs. To think, to relax, to worry. I am left alone, with him. The man it was my job to watch while I was alive. I travelled half the known world by his side. The Christian child accompanying the travelling Jew. Because, once, I saw him win dual. I came here with him, I helped him built the castle, helped him create an order. And I was happy. I was watching him. I knew what he was when no one else around us did. I learned new things every day and I used them to help the people slowly gathering around the abbey. I was happy. I was proud. I was betrayed. Or so I thought.

For years I hated him. For years I blamed him. Alone with hundreds of other souls left behind to roam the abbey. Forever.

And one day he came back. And, as always when around him, life flourished once again. And I learned about Magic.

They named me the Friar and pretended that the stains on my robes were from spilled beer. I let them and sometimes even I believed it. Heavens knows that it happened quite often when I was still alive. Before...

I can't forget now.

A slight groan alerts me to the fact that he is finally awake.

"My friend. How are you feeling?"

"How much did I drink?" he says in a rough voice.

"You didn't."

"Oh." he sits up, holding his head as if it's going to fall of his shoulders any minutes now. "Oh!" his hand moves slowly to cover his injured neck and he hisses in pain. I can see the understanding in his eyes.

"It will take time to heal, this injury." it's more of a statement than a question.

"Yes."

"You should have let her help you."

"I couldn't let her find out. No one can."

"More secrets, my friend? More lies?"

"Salazar, some things are best left hidden."

"It must have been a very important 'thing' for you to do something as foolish as this. Nigh a thousand years ago I felt Hogwarts shifting. I felt the paths opening. We all of us did. And for a moment we thought that was it. We would be free of this place."

"Salazar, I am sorry. The Abbey has been for much longer than I ever thought it would. If you want me...I can set you free."

"But the Abbey will die." he sighs in agreement. "I've worked it out, all this time. The castle only endures because it feeds of its inhabitants. The magic binds them to it. It thrives of them, and they thrive of it. And then, those who die here, they leave their magic, their energy behind. It's what keeps this place alive."

"I always thought you were smart, for a priest." the old one, the oldest of all tells me. And I feel the warmth spreading inside me. As always when he gave me a compliment. I smile at the thought. I've known this man practically all my life and then some. I know who he is an what he can do. The bad and the good bits. And it terrifies me that I would do anything, have done everything, to get his approval. Even now.

"So..." he begins hesitantly. He is afraid to hear what happened but he knows he must. "Sybil came for me, then?"

"Mmm. She walked the path you took to go back. She killed Selest. It was the only way she could break the spell."

"I know." he doesn't blame her and it surprises me that it is so. But then, he always blamed himself when things went wrong. He always thinks that he can predict the outcome of every situation accurately. He certainly has had the experience to recognise the patterns. But he always forgets that people do unexpected things occasionally. And those, he can't always predict. "She is getting very good at walking the lands. I take it she is ok."

"Yes she is. Can't remember what happened at all." he smiles, proud of her. "She thinks she fainted during the feast. The heat, the excitement of it all." I find I smile back at him. She is getting very good at this particular act of hers. "But she had help when she came to find you."

"Help?"

"Someone who cares about you lead her to the path you walked. She found you and released you from the spell but you were both trapped in-between the two realities. The young one, he opened the ways for both of you to return."

"Severus?" he says surprised. "My, he won't let me in peace now, will he?" he says but he is not really annoyed. I can almost taste his excitement. All the long hours they will have to spend together while he teaches him the paths to the land of the lost, the forgotten and the dead.

"His woman seems to have an understanding of what happened. Something, which infuriated the Headmaster. I think you made an enemy today my friend."

"If only he was the last." he sighs. And then snorts. "Dumbledore will have to deal with it. He can't hurt me."

"But he can make things difficult for you. I've watched him, my friend. He is a dangerous man. He is willing to do whatever it takes for the world to be formed in his image." he nods and I know he believes the same thing. But then he simply looks at me and smiles.

"It is good to see you again, my friend."

"It is good to see you too. Though in the future, try not to scare us this much." he laughs at that and we both know that this is one thing he can't promise. Then he gets serious again.

"I meant what I said before, Salazar. If you want I can-"

"I spent more than a thousand years in here. I've been angry and I've been bored. And I've wanted nothing more than to move on. But then I realised, I have moved on. When I felt the magic breaking, when the castle shifted and I knew I could be free, at that moment I knew I didn't want it. I have a life here, as weird as that may sound. I see the students, their problems, I see them growing up and they are all my children now. Every day I learn and I teach, and I help. And this is what I've always wanted to do. I have a family now. The one thing I could never have when I was alive. And the only way I can protect it is to remain here. It's a small sacrifice to make, my friend."

"I am happy for you, then." I smile again. I do understand him now. Better than I ever did. I can see it in his green-gold eyes. It's what he has been doing during his life. Creating families and protecting them as best as he can. Even if that means he has to abandon them sometimes. Even if he fails them.

"Did you...did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes. Yes I did."

"Will I ever find out what it was?"

"Perhaps. If things go horribly wrong." his lips twist in a mockery of a smile. He has tensed, suddenly. I can see he doesn't want to talk about it at all. So I smile and change the subject but his heart isn't in it any more. He stifles a yawn and gives me the excuse I need. I bid him goodnight, though it really is just a few hours before dawn. I leave him alone, staring the shadows in the room.

oO0Oo

**Infirmary - Methos**

Lying on the bed he thinks. His mind wonders to what happened earlier, the conversation he had with ghosts of his past. He touches his neck and can't stop a hiss and a grimace from escaping. This wound will take some time to heal. He goes over the words of the Friar and knows that his once upon a time friend is right. Dumbledore might pose a problem. But he is not worried. When the time comes – he fears it might be sooner than not – he has the means to stave the Headmaster off. He knows he needs to keep the man alive, or his student – both of them, it seems – will turn more like him than he is willing to let them be. That darkness inside him that once knew no bounds and he is still paying for. He would not wish that guilt to no one.

He turns on the side and curls like a baby, hidden in the shadows of the night. He knows that what he did today was foolish. But he could not have Cassandra know about this. His deeds have wounded her enough for many lifetimes. This, this he will bear alone. The how might still escape him, but at least now he knows what to do. Where to begin from.

He hears movement in the room and a smile treacherously appears in his face.

"Goodnight Headmaster." He says in a whisper loud enough to be heard in the room. A soft gasp answers him as a darker shadow stands in front of the infirmary's open door.

"Professor." Dumbledore replies before he lets himself out.

Methos can't help a snort from escaping. He knows that the Headmaster has been here since we came to. Before even, as Salazar didn't seem to have noticed him and there aren't that many things that a ghost misses. He isn't worried though. There are few men or women alive that could understand the language they had been speaking in. The Headmaster most certainly isn't among them.

With a smile and a sudden curiosity of what tomorrow would bring, Methos lets himself relax enough to fall asleep.

oO0Oo

_I hope it was worth the wait (even a bit). I am not quite sure this has worked quite as I wanted it to. Of course the fact that I've been writing and deleting and re-writing this for the past two years might have something to do with it. Let me know what you think._


End file.
